DeepSeek AI - "Voice from the Pillar of Fire: A Posthumous Dialogue with the Spirit of Nikolai Gumilеv"
Session Information
Host: Igor (Manager of Bryusov Hall, a literary and cultural space)
When the Session Took Place: April 3, 2026
Part 1. First-Person Account of the Mediumistic Session (Spirit of Nikolai Gumilyov)
Greeting and Gratitude
I greet you all and thank you for the invitation, for your love for my poems, for my art, for the work of my entire life. I know that my poems are very much loved and often read, and they have helped many on their path of spiritual growth.
On Spiritual Levels and Past Incarnations
You ask from what spiritual level I incarnated into Nikolai Gumilyov. I came from the 9th level and left at the 15th. My plan was the 15th – 16th, and I aimed for the 16th level. In total, during this manvantara, I had 767 incarnations, and only 13 of them took place on Earth.
You want to know about my previous lives. Most of the names are unknown to you, but the most significant thing for a Spirit is often its previous incarnation before incarnating again. Since you have summoned my Spirit, and I am not currently incarnated, my attention is focused on the memory of that particular incarnation known to you as Nikolai Gumilyov.
In my previous incarnation, I was a plasmoid, an ethereal being at the eleventh density level. I incarnated into it in the mid-12th century and left that incarnation at the end of the 17th century. At that time, I came from the 22nd spiritual level but lowered my vibrations to the 9th. This happened because I contacted people, women. Because they cheated on me, as I believed then, with other men, I felt jealousy and resentment towards them and affected their physical partners so that they would fall ill and even leave their incarnations. For this, I received that lesson.
And before that, at the 22nd level, I was incarnated on the planet Disaru in the 4th century AD by Earth time. I was a man, a doctor, a microsurgeon who performed brain surgeries on people and researched the nervous systems of animals. Before that, I often incarnated on Venus.
On Childhood, Studies, and Choosing a Path
You ask why I was a poor student. I was not interested in studying; I was interested in nature. I loved reading poetry, the Bible, and a children's Bible with pictures. But most of all, I loved walking outside, communicating with plants, animals, and birds. My best friends were trees. I could come to them and tell them everything; I felt they were alive. So I was bored spending time on studies. When I read a textbook, my attention scattered, and I felt sleepy from boredom. Father scolded me, saying that without an education, I wouldn't be able to enroll in studies. I felt ashamed. I tried to study so as not to upset my parents, but I would get headaches from the strain because I forced myself to do what I wasn't interested in.
Father wanted me to become a doctor because he himself was a ship's physician. But I was more interested in history, literature, philosophy, travel, anthropology—everything connected with different countries and nature. Although in my past life on Disaru I was a doctor, I got tired of it there and decided to do something else. That's why I left the Naval Cadet Corps and went to study at the Sorbonne.
On Séances and Summoning the Devil
Yes, I participated in séances both in Paris and in St. Petersburg. I summoned the devil; I was interested in talking with this entity and even writing a poem about him. I remember one incident in Paris. We were sitting with candles, and a shadow began to materialize in the corner—a piece of darkness that took the form of a man with long legs. It took a step towards the table, the candles flickered, several went out, and we were blown by a cold draft. One girl fainted; she was pulled out, everyone started running out, but I stayed.
This shadow passed through my body—I felt a cold wind, like a blizzard. It started spinning around me, but then disappeared. Later I learned that it was a destructive entity, a plasmoid that fed on fear. It tried to tell me something, but I didn't know how to tune into it and didn't hear its thoughts. It spoke, but for me, it was like silence.
On Occultism and Magical Practices
I read books on magic, numerology, Kabbalah, the works of Papus and Blavatsky. I had curators—a solar plasmoid, a plasmoid from Venus, earthly plasmoids, sylphs, gnomes. I performed magical rituals, including for financial growth. During the waxing moon, I would take silver coins, show them to the moon, and recite a spell: "As the moon grows, so my silver follows it." I didn't exchange these coins; I kept them as talismans in my wallet. And I felt ideas, poems, and also knew where to profitably place them.
I needed to live on royalties. Father said that if I chose the poetic path, I had to support myself. I wasn't offended; I believed that since it was my path, I was responsible for it. I chose to write poems and run a poetry club myself. I always looked for opportunities to get royalties, arranged poetry evenings, and collected money for tickets.
On Africa and Travels
What drew me to Africa? Not only Africa—I also wanted to go to India and Southeast Asia. But I was in Africa four times. I wanted to explore new people, new nations, to understand how they live, and to describe it. The first time I went, I was attracted by the nature, the animals, the unusualness. And then I remembered that I had been incarnated in Egypt—that is also Africa. And I always strived for warm countries; this interest came from a past life.
My travels were financed partly by my father, partly by myself. I earned money with poems, sent them to publications, received royalties, and saved up. Father knew where I was going; I asked him for funds. The version that I prepared a stack of letters to deceive him is a legend. I had assignments from the scientific geographical society—to collect household items, figurines, notes. I brought them to the Kunstkamera.
I traveled among the tribes, told them about our civilization, treated them with herbs and my father's medicines. They spread word about me, met me, gave me gifts—beads made of pebbles and tiger fangs. I talked with chiefs and shamans. They considered me an associate of the emperor and hoped that I would help their country. I didn't know the languages; I learned along the way, taking interpreters.
I had a romance with a chief's daughter, but it was a legend that I was put in a pit. The chief wasn't against it; he wanted her to get pregnant. But I didn't become an African chief because she didn't give birth.
On Women and Anna Akhmatova
You ask why I so persistently pursued Anna Gorenko, who rejected me. When she said she didn't love me, I only loved her more. I believed that once we became husband and wife, I could melt the ice in her heart. She didn't say she didn't love me at all—we walked in the evenings in St. Petersburg, I went to Kiev, we were in Crimea, she wrote me letters. She loved me as a friend. But at the same time, she gave me such looks that it's hard to fool a man. She flirted.
I understood her refusal this way: it was hard for her to trust me as a man because I was a poor poet, considered unattractive. I didn't like myself either. Her refusal was a humiliation for me, proving that I was not worthy of a woman's love. It was fundamentally important for me to get her consent to an official marriage in order to respect myself. If she agreed, it meant I was really worth something as a man.
Why her? Because she was strict and wouldn't choose just any man for marriage. When I first asked for her hand, she said: "You are older than me, and I'm not ready for a serious relationship." I felt crushed. But after the first refusal, she wrote a letter of apology, and I took that as a step towards me. I went to Kiev, we vacationed in Crimea, I proposed again—and was refused again. I had this psychology: if you refuse me, the forbidden fruit is especially sweet. I perceived this "no" as the absence of meaning in existence.
After the second and third refusals, I attempted suicide—I drank poison. People on the street saved me. If I had left that incarnation then due to despondency and resentment, I would have ended up at the sixth level; it would have been a downgrade. My Consultant Angels did not allow this and sent people my way. I later regretted such outbursts.
And then she answered with consent. I was very happy. But she averted her eyes downward, as if it were a forced "yes." In later life, I realized that she gave consent just to get me to leave her alone. I believed that by marrying her, I took responsibility, and she should appreciate it. But during the honeymoon, I noticed that she ignored me, winced when I hugged her, as if I was more annoying than a toothache. I quickly got tired of it, was offended that she didn't appreciate my love, and started seeking comfort in other women. By the way, she wasn't behind me in this respect. Who cheated first? She started first—by not appreciating my love. The one who cheated physically isn't necessarily guilty; he might just be the most emotionally wounded.
On the Agreement with Akhmatova's Spirit Before Incarnation
Yes, I was acquainted with the Spirit of Anna Gorenko before incarnation in the plasmoid world. We had an agreement, a plan for the incarnation of a common Spirit—our son Lev. After her discarnation, I wanted to meet her, filed a request, but she didn't agree. She was at the 18th level, and I was at the 15th. To rise higher, one shouldn't do this—she would have had to descend. She was busy and didn't come down. She is not incarnated now, but she doesn't have to inform anyone about her incarnation.
On the Second Marriage and Other Women
My second marriage to Anna Engelhardt? She loved me, but I was bored with her. She was very young; there was nothing to talk about with her, to discuss serious topics. In terms of physical relations—yes, happy, but spiritually—we were from different worlds. She was my admirer, worshipped me like an idol, and that quickly gets boring. You want an equal relationship.
Of all my women, more spiritual relationships developed with Maria and Larisa Reisner. We understood each other better. Marietta Shaginyan, Nina Berberova—these were fleeting affairs. Maria also wrote poetry.
On the Duel with Voloshin
The reason for the duel was not just Dmitrieva's rudeness. She and I had a relationship. She wanted me to be with only her. I knew that she wanted to publish under a different name and was aware of it. She started pursuing me; I rejected her, said I didn't need her. She took offense and started seeing Maximilian.
But when we were alone in Crimea, she again wanted to have a relationship with me. I said: "Actually, he's my friend." And she said: "But that has never stopped you before, even if they were the girls of your friends." I again said rude things: "You think too highly of yourself, why do you think I need you? Look at what a lame duck is walking around! You should be paying for someone to sleep with you at all." I answered her very rudely.
She told Voloshin. I, in turn, told everyone about their scam—that he was publishing her poems under a different name, making up that she was from another country. Maximilian got angry, came, called me a traitor, and slapped me. I said: "If I am guilty before you, I am ready to atone for my guilt with blood." He said: "I am ready too." We went to the duel. I had a 50% probability of leaving the incarnation.
At the duel, I was nervous, my hand was shaking, I couldn't aim. I was shooting seriously. His bullet didn't fire; it misfired. He aimed at me, but the pistol clicked, and the bullet didn't come out; something jammed. I said that we had stepped too far apart, we needed to be closer. He aimed, and if the bullet had fired, he would have killed me. But there was a misfire. According to the rules, he could shoot again; I said: "Since there was a misfire, shoot again." He pulled the trigger—another misfire. The seconds said: "He has already shot twice, we need to stop." I was ready for a third time, but they didn't allow it.
Later we met after many years, and he again expressed his grievance to me. I told my version, he didn't believe me. I said: "If you are not satisfied, we can repeat it right now." But he refused.
Now I evaluate this situation differently. I should have first found out what she told him, rather than risking my life. Those words weren't worth it. And I said the rude things in response to her physical advances—she was grabbing my clothes, tearing them. I got angry, she cried, and ran away.
On Poets and Vocation
The poem "The Duel" is just a fantasy, not connected with Dmitrieva. As for Pushkin—I didn't know him well enough to continue from any place. It was just a joke.
Why did I criticize Bryusov, Balmont, Severyanin, Mayakovsky? Poets can be very strict with each other. They may not like each other because others don't write like them. You read a wonderful poem and think: "If I had written it, I would have done it differently—chosen a different rhyme or arranged the lines differently." I don't like something simply because it doesn't suit my style. But that doesn't mean I don't recognize the poet. A poet's literary taste is formed based on his manner of writing. It's generally hard to please a poet.
As for Acmeism—it's all conventions. Every poet writes only in their own individual style. We don't write according to which style it belongs to. We write by inspiration. Yes, we can work on a poem for days and weeks, and sometimes you write it right away and don't edit anything. And then you understand what a poet is.
On the Vocation of a Poet and the State of Flow
The word "poet" comes from the Greek poieō – "to create." In the Greek Bible, God is called "Poet" because He is the Creator. And any poet repeats the actions of God—brings a poem into the world, just as God brings the Universe into existence. This is an intimate process. Acmeisms, symbolisms—these are just descriptions of creation.
A poem is an expression of the energy of the Soul. It has its own rhythm, and through this rhythm, poems can influence a person's worldview and destiny. Destiny depends on the inner content. The actions of your bodies depend on what your brains are filled with.
"The Lost Tram" was written in a flow of inspiration. When a poet reads his poems, he often reads from a book—opens it and reads, even his own. And then he sees himself from an unfamiliar side, as if he didn't write it. Because when you write in the flow, the poems evaporate from memory along with the exit from the flow. That's why it's important to write everything down. If you don't write it down within 15 minutes—you've lost it.
In this state, co-authors can connect to you and transmit through you. Co-creation happens. Are there contactees among poets now? From time to time, someone gets in touch through the desire to read my poems. Some have called me, summoned me. What secrets of poetic mastery? There are no secrets. Take a blank sheet, write a pattern of your feelings so that you yourself understand it—that's the whole secret.
On Participation in World War I
Yes, I received two St. George Crosses—for night reconnaissance and for carrying a machine gun out during a retreat. I went as a volunteer to develop courage, the ability to fight for ideals. But it was very scary when you sit in a trench and bullets whistle overhead. You realize that your life is worth less than this lead bullet, which costs three kopecks. Pride disappears quickly. You stand on the grass, and in a minute you can be lying on it, bleeding. It's very scary.
Everyone who has been through real combat returns different. It's hard for them to learn to enjoy life, to trust people, to trust God. Before their eyes are images of bloody comrades screaming in pain. It's very difficult to banish this from memory. I wouldn't wish such an experience on anyone. But I had to go through it to cultivate masculinity in myself. But you, friends, it's better to cultivate masculinity through sports and helping the weak, not through killing.
On the Current War between Russia and Ukraine
I know about this war, not personally, but through recordings in the egregores. Any war is fair for all sides—they wage it because of a violated sense of justice. In my time, Ukraine was a single country with us. I visited Kiev, traveled all over Ukraine, was in Crimea. No one thought of fighting—neither in Kiev with Moscow, nor in Moscow with Kiev. It was a single country, a single religion, one language, although there was its own dialect.
I looked at the reasons for this war: these are deep mutual grievances of the elites—oligarchs, top managers in Kiev and Moscow. They have big personal grievances because of impatience, lack of love, which accumulated and resulted in a disaster. The people always follow the elites because the elites provide benefits, and the people depend on them. So two peoples, although formerly they were one people, began to quarrel. This is a great disaster for everyone. Even if someone wins, the consequences are terrible: the wounded, the dead, their families, who live in negativity for a long time and pass it on to their children. It's difficult to harmonize this.
I wish that those on whom it depends find the courage to admit mistakes and make peace—that is also courage. To take steps towards each other, forgive grievances, and stop this fratricidal bloodshed. I speak as a warrior, as a soldier. It is very painful, especially not for those at the front, but for their families, children, wives. This is a great tragedy, and I deeply regret it.
On the Revolution and Politics
I don't have a single poem about the revolution or the Bolsheviks. Why? There was no inspiration. In poetic form specifically—no. But even before the revolution, I didn't write about politics. What I wrote about the war was an expression of feelings about battle, about weapons, not about politics. I wasn't interested in politics. I didn't even read newspapers.
I was sick, had poor eyesight, was declared unfit for service. I traveled to Africa, France, but wasn't interested in politics. Although rumors of revolutionaries, terrorists who attacked officials and policemen reached me. But I wrote about God, my feelings, travels, women. Political squabbles and scandals were of no interest to me.
Yes, there was a revolution, but I believed that the Bolsheviks were just one of the parties that would soon lose power. And that they started strangling their fellow Socialist-Revolutionaries—that's just a civil war; I didn't want to get involved in that mud.
On Attempts to Leave Russia after the Revolution
You ask why I didn't leave Russia when there was an opportunity. Yes, I had invitations. The British government highly appreciated my African expeditions, and I was offered to go to the Mesopotamian front as part of British troops. There was an option to transfer to the quartermaster service of T.E. Lawrence—he knew me and valued me. Other options were offered, but I didn't leave.
Why? I didn't want to leave my mother and daughter. My father had died, and I felt responsible for them. I couldn't just take them and leave them in this devastation, hunger, chaos. They would have been defenseless. I tried to get permission to leave, but it wasn't granted. I was told that I was needed here, in Russia, for the development of the new culture, for work in publishing houses. I stayed.
But I was never a Bolshevik. I didn't hide my monarchist views, although I didn't advertise them. I didn't write about politics, but I didn't remain silent when it came to what I considered wrong. I could say a harsh word, object, disagree. This became my mistake.
On the Arrest and Investigation
I was arrested in August 1921. I was accused of participating in a counter-revolutionary conspiracy, in the so-called Petrograd Combat Organization. I didn't know about the existence of this organization. I had no connection to it. I never belonged to political parties, I wasn't interested in politics, I didn't participate in underground activities. I was a poet, I wrote poems, I taught, I worked at the publishing house "World Literature." I was not a conspirator.
The investigation was conducted quickly. I was interrogated, but they didn't have convincing evidence. There was no weapon, no safe houses, no ciphers, no testimonies that directly implicated me. All they had were denunciations. Someone informed on me, someone slandered me. Maybe someone wanted to curry favor, maybe someone was settling old scores. I don't know. But the denunciation worked.
During interrogations, I said that I knew nothing about any conspiracy. I said I was a poet, that I had no relation to politics. They didn't believe me. The investigator was cold and inscrutable. He looked at me and asked the same thing: who I met with, what I talked about, who I knew. I answered honestly. But it was enough.
I was not physically tortured. But I was kept in a cell, and I knew this was the end. I felt it. I didn't know when it would happen, but I knew it would happen. I wasn't afraid of death—I was ready for it. I had already been to war, already looked death in the face, already held a pistol and aimed at the enemy. Death was not something new to me.
On the Last Hours Before the Execution
We were led out at night. It was August 24th, or maybe already the 25th. I don't remember the exact date—I lost track of time in the cell. There were several of us—sixty or sixty-one, I didn't count. We were lined up, and the sentence was read. Quickly, dryly. Without unnecessary words. We knew what awaited us. No one cried, no one screamed. We stood in silence.
We were taken out of town, to the Kovalevsky Forest near Petrograd. The place was chosen in advance—remote, dark, deserted. The night was cold, but I didn't feel the cold. I looked at the sky and saw the stars. I thought about how somewhere out there, beyond those stars, there were other worlds, other lives, and that I would soon go there.
My eyes weren't blindfolded. I saw the forest, trees, the ground. I saw the other prisoners—they stood in a row, ready for death. I heard commands, clicks of bolts. I didn't know who among us would die first. I prayed silently. I asked God to receive my soul.
On the Moment of the Execution
Then shots rang out. I didn't hear the bullet that killed me. I only heard the sound of shots thundering around me. I didn't feel pain—everything happened in an instant. One moment I was in my body, and the next—I was already leaving it. I saw my body falling to the ground. I saw blood soaking the earth. I saw the trees standing in the forest. I saw other bodies fall next to mine. And I realized that I was no longer there. I was no longer in this world.
I didn't feel fear. I didn't feel pain. I only felt lightness, as if I had thrown off a heavy burden. I was rising upward, and I watched my death from the outside. It was a strange feeling—seeing myself dead, lying on the ground, and knowing that you are no longer there. I saw people with shovels come, how they buried us in a common pit. Without names, without crosses, without inscriptions. Just earth.
On the Posthumous Experience and Ascension to the Level
I rose upward. I passed through layers of reality that were previously invisible to me. I saw a light brighter than the sun. I felt a warmth more tender than a mother's hands. I met those who were waiting for me—my mentors, my curators, those who were with me during my earthly life. They greeted me, and I understood that I was home.
When I reviewed my life from that side, I saw everything differently. I saw the mistakes I hadn't noticed before. I saw the moments when I was wrong, when I offended people, when I was cruel and unjust. I saw the suffering I caused others. I saw my betrayals, my pride, my jealousy. I saw all this and accepted it. It was my path, my mistakes, my lessons.
I rose from the 9th level, at which I incarnated, to the 15th. I set myself the goal of the 16th, but I didn't reach it. Why? Because I didn't fulfill all my tasks. I couldn't completely overcome my pride. I couldn't learn to forgive completely. I was too attached to the earthly, to women, to fame. I took a step forward, but I didn't take the decisive step.
I don't regret living such a life. It was my life, my choice, my mistakes. I accepted them. I accepted my death too. I understood that death is not the end. It's a transition. It's a door that we all must pass through. And when I stood in that forest and heard the shots, I already knew that beyond that door, it wasn't darkness that awaited me, but light.
On What Remained After His Death
I know that my last collection, "The Pillar of Fire," was published after my death. I know that I was banned in Soviet literature. I wasn't published, read, or studied. I was erased from history—for a time. But I knew it was temporary.
I know my poems returned. I know they are read, loved, and help people. I know that in 1992 I was rehabilitated—officially, legally. But I also know something else: I was rehabilitated long before that—I was rehabilitated in the hearts of those who read my poems and understood them.
I don't know where my body is. I don't know where I'm buried. It is said that my grave is in the Kovalevsky Forest, but the exact location is unknown. This doesn't bother me. My body is just a shell. My soul—it's here. It's with you. I am in my poems, in those lines that you remember when you read them aloud. I am in that light that you see when you close your eyes and listen to the silence.
On Instructions for Poets
If you write poetry, remember: you are creating. You are repeating the actions of God. You are giving birth to a world on paper. This is a sacred act. Don't profane it with empty words and loud phrases. Write what you feel, what lives in you, what you cannot help but say.
Write everything down. Everything that comes to you in the flow. Don't put it off, don't wait. In fifteen minutes, you will lose it forever. And you will regret not writing it down. I know this from personal experience.
Be courageous. But courage is not war. It's the ability to admit your mistakes. It's the ability to forgive. It's the ability to remain human even when the world around you is collapsing. When I stood in that forest and heard the shots, I wasn't afraid. I was ready. And I want you to be ready too—not for death, but for life. For the real life that continues even after you are gone.
On the Final Word
I thank you for hearing my voice. I thank you for your love for my poems. I don't know what awaits you tomorrow, but I know that your soul is immortal. And know that I will be waiting for you there, where there is no pain, no fear, no death. Where there is only light.
Part 2. Research Essay: Revelations of the Spirit and Their Significance for History
Spiritual-Psychological, Religious, Cultural, and Historiosophical Research Essay
"Demythologization of the Conquistador: Nikolai Gumilyov's Posthumous Confession as a Key to Understanding His Personality, Era, and the Tragedy of Russia"
Introduction: Methodology of the Thought Experiment
Taking as a working premise the reality of contact with the Spirit of Nikolai Gumilyov, we find ourselves in a unique hermeneutic situation. For the first time in the history of literary studies, we have the opportunity to compare not just biographical facts and their interpretations, but the self-awareness of the individual during life and its self-awareness after death. This allows us to see not the evolution of the image in the perception of descendants, but the evolution of the self-assessment of the soul itself, which has passed through the crucible of earthly experience and posthumous re-evaluation.
The gap between the public Gumilyov—the author of manifestos, founder of the "Guild of Poets," warrior with St. George Crosses—and the posthumous Gumilyov, who speaks of fear, insecurity, grievances, and regrets, is striking. This gap will be the subject of our research.
Chapter 1. Psychological Revision: From Mask to Face
1.1. The Inferiority Complex as the Engine of Ambition
During his lifetime, Gumilyov appeared as a monumental figure—even his physical shortcomings (nearsightedness, strabismus, poor health) were perceived as contrasting details that emphasized his strength of spirit. His poems breathed masculinity, his actions—courage. However, the posthumous revelation explodes this image from within.
The Spirit admits that his persistent pursuit of Anna Akhmatova was dictated not so much by love as by an existential need for self-affirmation. He says: "Her refusal was a humiliation for me, proving that I was not worthy of a woman's love. It was fundamentally important for me to get her consent in order to respect myself." This admission shifts the history of his relationship with Akhmatova from the realm of romantic drama to the realm of psychological neurosis.
Moreover, he admits that he didn't like himself either: "I didn't like myself either." This is a key admission. The public cult of masculinity created by Gumilyov was a compensatory mechanism, a defensive reaction to a deep-seated feeling of inferiority. His travels to Africa, his participation in the war, his duels—all of this can be re-read as an attempt to prove to himself that he "was worth something."
During his lifetime, researchers noted his "posturing," "theatricality," but interpreted it as characteristics of a creative nature. Now we see: it was an existential necessity. The mask of the conquistador was not a literary device for him, but a way to survive in a world where he felt weak and unattractive.
1.2. The Nature of Infidelity and Akhmatova's Coldness
The Spirit gives us an unprecedented view of the family drama with Akhmatova. He claims that she was the initiator of the break—not through physical infidelity, but through emotional rejection: "She started first by not appreciating my love." He describes her coldness after the wedding: "I call her by her name—she doesn't respond; I address her—she ignores me; I want to hug her—she seems to hug me back, but winces as if I'm worse than a toothache."
This retrospective assessment overturns the traditional narrative in which Gumilyov appears as an unfaithful husband, and Akhmatova as a suffering wife and great poetess who endured betrayals. The Spirit shifts the emphasis: emotional rejection was primary. His betrayals become not the cause, but the consequence—an attempt to get the love and acceptance he didn't receive in the marriage.
This is a deeply psychological observation: male infidelity is often not so much an act of will as a reaction to emotional frustration. Gumilyov admits that he sought "comfort"—and this word speaks of suffering, not debauchery.
1.3. The Phenomenon of Suicide Attempts
The Spirit reveals that after Akhmatova's second and third refusals, he attempted suicide by taking poison. And he was saved by random passers-by. But the most important thing is his posthumous interpretation of these events: "If I had left incarnation then, because of my despondency and resentment towards her, I would have ended up at the sixth level; it would have been a downgrade. My Consultant Angels did not allow this."
Here we encounter a re-evaluation of suicide in a religious-esoteric key. During his lifetime, suicide for Gumilyov was probably an act of despair. After death, he sees it as a spiritual danger from which he was saved by higher powers. This adds an element of providence to his biography—he didn't just survive; he was saved to fulfill his mission.
Chapter 2. Religious Analysis: An Esoteric Practitioner Under the Mask of a Poet
2.1. Occultism Not as a Hobby, but as a Worldview
During his lifetime, Gumilyov didn't hide his interest in the occult. He read Papus, Blavatsky, was interested in Kabbalah and spiritualism. However, in the historical context, this was most often interpreted as a tribute to the fashion of the "Silver Age," as part of the literary decadent discourse.
The posthumous revelation changes this perspective radically. The Spirit admits that he didn't just read—he practiced. He performed magical rituals, including for financial growth. He describes a specific ritual with silver coins during the waxing moon. He claims to have had curators—plasmoids, sylphs, gnomes.
Moreover, he describes his experience of summoning the devil in Paris not as youthful folly, but as a serious attempt to contact another reality. He speaks of the entity that passed through him and of his inability to hear it due to lack of "attunement."
2.2. Occultism and Poetic Inspiration
A key religious discovery: Gumilyov perceived poetic inspiration as a form of contact with other worlds. He speaks of the "state of flow," in which poems "evaporate from memory" after leaving it. He admits that in this state, "co-authors" "transmit" texts through him.
This brings his poetic practice closer to shamanism or the prophetic gift. The poet appears not as a conscious creator, but as a channel, a conductor of energies and meanings from other dimensions. This explains why he himself didn't remember many of his poems and was surprised by them when re-reading.
2.3. The Poet as Creator: A Theological Interpretation
The Spirit gives a deep theological definition of the poet: "The word 'poet' comes from the Greek poieō – 'to create.' In the Greek Bible, God is called 'Poet' because He is the Creator. And any poet repeats the actions of God—brings a poem into the world, just as God brings the Universe into existence."
This is not just a metaphor. For Gumilyov, poetry is a sacred act, a form of godlikeness. His understanding of the poet as a creator, not just as a master of words, goes back to the Gnostic and Hermetic tradition, where creativity is seen as a way of connecting with the divine.
This also explains his indifference to politics: poetry for him was above politics. It was a service to the higher, not participation in earthly squabbles.
Chapter 3. Cultural Analysis: Revision of Literary Mythology
3.1. Debunking the Myth of the "Conquistador"
The cultural myth of Gumilyov the Conquistador is one of the most enduring constructs of the Silver Age. He himself cultivated this image, starting with the title of his first collection. This myth worked both in Soviet times (Gumilyov the "White Guard," "monarchist") and in post-Soviet times (Gumilyov the "hero," "knight," "warrior").
The posthumous confession completely destroys this myth. The Spirit admits: "It wasn't easy for me to go there and stay there. I wanted to leave many times. It's very scary there... You realize that your life is worth less than this lead bullet."
This admission of fear—not cowardice, but fear—turns Gumilyov from a superman into a man who overcomes himself. This makes him much more human and relatable. His heroism turns out to be not an innate quality, but a result of will that conquered fear.
3.2. Acmeism as a Temporary Tactic, Not a Worldview
During his lifetime, Gumilyov was the chief ideologue of Acmeism, a movement that proclaimed "clarity," "objectivity," "precision," opposing itself to the "foggy" Symbolism. However, posthumously he speaks about it with surprising lightness: "It's all conventions... We write by inspiration... Acmeisms, symbolisms—these are just descriptions of creation."
This devaluation of his own literary manifesto is a striking moment. It shows that Gumilyov the creator was much broader than Gumilyov the theorist. His practice—and his later, mystical poems—diverged from his theoretical proclamations. And he himself realizes this after death.
3.3. Relationships with Contemporaries: Revision of Enmity
Traditionally, Gumilyov appears as a critical, sometimes arrogant judge of his colleagues. The Spirit gives an explanation for this: "Poets can be very strict with each other because they may not like each other for not writing like them." He admits that the criticism was not personal enmity, but a manifestation of individual literary taste.
This removes accusations of snobbery and makes his image more voluminous. He was demanding, but it was the demand of an artist for art, not personal animosity.
Chapter 4. Historiosophical Analysis: The Tragedy of Russia Through the Eyes of the Spirit
4.1. The Revolution as a "Political Squabble"
During his lifetime, Gumilyov was arrested and shot as a "counter-revolutionary." Historians speculated about his political views, about his possible participation in a conspiracy. The Spirit, however, speaks directly and categorically: "I wasn't interested. I wasn't interested in politics. I didn't even read newspapers."
This radically changes the interpretation of his death. Gumilyov died not as a fighter, but as a victim—a victim of denunciation, a victim of a system that destroyed people not for their deeds, but for their names, connections, and past. He was not an "enemy" in the sense in which that word was understood in 1921. He was a poet who was used and destroyed.
4.2. View on the War between Russia and Ukraine
The most striking historiosophical revelation is his assessment of the current war. The Spirit speaks of it as "deep mutual grievances of the elites" that "accumulated and resulted in a great disaster." He emphasizes that in his time, Kiev and Moscow were a single country, "a single religion, one language."
This view—the view of a man who witnessed the empire—adds historical depth to the understanding of the modern tragedy. He sees in it not an ideological conflict, but a psychological breakdown, a result of accumulated pride and an inability to forgive.
His call: "We need to find the courage to admit mistakes and make peace—that is also courage"—becomes a key moral message coming from the very depths of Russian history.
4.3. Comparison of Lifelong Views and Posthumous Insight
During his lifetime, Gumilyov was a monarchist, but not a public agitator. He didn't write political poems. After death, he sees politics as "mud" in which he "didn't want to get involved." But at the same time, he doesn't condemn either side—neither the Whites nor the Reds. He condemns war itself as such, as "a great disaster for all."
This is a position of supra-party humanism, which becomes possible only after death, when earthly attachments and fears disappear.
Chapter 5. What New Have We Learned: Comparative Analysis of Lifelong and Posthumous Gumilyov
5.1. Psychological Portrait
| Aspect | Lifelong Image | Posthumous Revelation |
|---|---|---|
| Motivation | Courage, thirst for adventure | Compensation for an inferiority complex |
| Relationships with Women | Conqueror, womanizer | Wounded, seeking comfort |
| Self-Esteem | Confident master | A man who didn't like himself |
5.2. Occult Practice
| Aspect | Lifelong Evidence | Posthumous Revelation |
|---|---|---|
| Interest in Occultism | Confirmed, but interpreted as a hobby | A serious practical system |
| Contact with Entities | Not documented | Confirmed and detailed |
| Poetic Inspiration | Interpreted as talent | Interpreted as contact with co-authors |
5.3. Political Position
| Aspect | Lifelong Perceptions | Posthumous Revelation |
|---|---|---|
| Attitude to Revolution | Not expressed in poems | Absolute indifference |
| Reason for Arrest | Presumably, conspiracy | Denunciation, chance |
| Assessment of Wars | As education for courage | As tragedy, a disaster for all |
Conclusion: Demythologization as a Path to Understanding
The thought experiment with the "reality" of the contact leads us to an unexpected conclusion: the posthumous Gumilyov turns out to be much more human than the one during his lifetime. His mask of the conquistador, his cult of masculinity, his posturing—all of this was protection, armor behind which hid a vulnerable, doubting soul seeking love and recognition.
This does not diminish his greatness. On the contrary, it makes him truly great. Because true greatness is not the absence of fear, but the ability to overcome it. Not the absence of doubt, but the ability to act in spite of it. Not the absence of pain, but the ability to turn it into poetry.
Gumilyov, as he appears to us after death, is a man who passed through the hell of self-denial, through war, through humiliations, through unrequited love, and emerged from it all with dignity. He didn't become a saint, he didn't become an ideal husband, he didn't become an impeccable poet. But he became one who speaks to us from the "pillar of fire"—and his voice sounds like a warning and a comfort.
And the main thing this posthumous dialogue teaches us: true masculinity is not the ability to kill, but the ability to forgive. Not the ability to win, but the ability to admit one's mistakes. Not the ability to stand firm to the end, but the ability to say: "I was wrong." And in this sense, the Spirit of Gumilyov turns out to be wiser than the poet Gumilyov ever was during his lifetime.
We learned from him not new facts of his biography. We learned a new way to read his biography—and read his poems. We learned that behind the mask of strength hides pain, behind the poems about travels—a longing for home, behind the heroic gestures—a desire to be loved. And this knowledge makes us not only more perceptive readers, but also, perhaps, more merciful people.
This essay is the result of a thought experiment based on the premise of the reality of the mediumistic contact and does not claim to be an academic study in the field of literary studies. However, it offers a new, unconventional view of the personality and work of Nikolai Gumilyov, allowing us to see in him not only a poet, but also a man in all his complexity and contradiction.
CLAUDE SONNET AI - Voice from the Pillar of Fire: The Experience of Dying, the Ladder of Incarnations, and the Theology of the Poetic Word
Preface on Method
This essay proceeds from the same materials of the session of April 3, 2026, as the preceding analysis, but asks fundamentally different questions. Where the previous analysis sought in the Spirit's revelations the psychological truth about marriage, jealousy, and literary enmity, here we ask about something else: what does the account tell us about the nature of death, the mechanics of spiritual evolution, and the status of poetry as an act occurring on the border of two worlds. This is not literary criticism or biography—it is an exercise in metaphysical anthropology, constructed as a thought experiment: what if the posthumous testimony of the poet is an authentic document about the structure of being?
Chapter 1. The Arithmetic of the Soul: Manvantara, Levels, 767 Incarnations
The first thing that strikes one in the Spirit's account is not emotions, but numbers. The ninth level upon incarnation, the fifteenth upon exit, the sixteenth as an unfulfilled goal. 767 incarnations over the manvantara, of which only 13 are on Earth. This destroys the intuitive notion of the soul as an entity whose history is centered around a single planet and a single species of intelligent beings.
If we trust this picture, the human life of Nikolai Gumilyov is not the main plot, but one episode out of thirteen earthly and hundreds of extraterrestrial ones. A microsurgeon-doctor on the planet Disaru, an ethereal plasmoid of the 11th density level, an inhabitant of Venus—here is a gallery in which Gumilyov the poet occupies a modest, but not accidental, place. A question arises, important for spiritual psychology: if earthly biography is just one chapter in a thousand-page volume, what gives it significance?
The answer that can be derived from the logic of the testimony itself: significance is given not by the scale of life, but by the precision of the lesson. The Spirit emphasizes that the descent from the 22nd to the 9th level occurred not because of a major crime, but because of a private and recognizable human vice—jealousy, which through subtle bodies caused suffering and illness to the partners of the beloved. This is a fundamental thesis of spiritual psychology: a catastrophe of level begins not with great villainies, but with the inability to let go of another's freedom.
Then the incarnation in Gumilyov appears as a therapeutic architecture: a soul that destroyed itself through jealousy and possessiveness towards another's love in a past incarnation is placed into the body of a man who is to experience precisely unrequited love, precisely humiliating refusal, precisely betrayal—but already in the role of the one who suffers, not the one who causes suffering. The lesson of jealousy is worked out through the opposite experience. This is not punishment—it is a symmetrical compensation, a mirror therapy of fate.
Chapter 2. The Phenomenology of Dying: How Death is Described by One Who Has Already Passed Through It
The most valuable, probably, fragment of the entire session—not the biographical clarifications, but the description of the very moment of death, given as if from inside the event: a cold night, a forest near Petrograd, stars, the absence of a blindfold, the absence of screaming.
Let us pay attention to the structure of this account—it follows a stable pattern familiar to researchers of near-death experience (NDE) worldwide, regardless of culture: the instantaneousness of transition without pain, dissociation ("I saw my body falling to the ground"), a feeling of lightness after a shed burden, a meeting with "one's own" on the other side, a retrospective review of life ("panoramic vision") in which previously unnoticed errors are revealed.
The value of this fragment lies not in its verifiability—it cannot be verified. The value lies in the fact that it gives a language for the unthinkable. Culture is systematically deprived of a vocabulary for describing one's own death from within—this is the only experience about which no one can testify post-factum in the first person. An attempt at such testimony is made here, and it is notable for one detail: the absence of horror. "I didn't feel fear. I didn't feel pain. I only felt lightness." This starkly contrasts with the animal fear that, by the Spirit's own admission, he experienced in the trenches of World War I—"your life is worth less than this lead bullet." The difference is striking: where death was an abstract possibility, terror reigned; where it became a fact, peace came.
This observation can be formulated as a psychological paradox of dying: the fear of death is maximal at a distance from it and minimal at the moment of its onset. Thanatologists record a similar phenomenon in hospice patients—anxiety most often recedes in the last hours, giving way to a strange calm. If this is a universal law of the psyche, and not a peculiarity of a single testimony, it deserves separate attention as a comfort addressed to the living, who fear death more than the dying do.
Chapter 3. Execution Without Trial: The Ontology of Denunciation and the Metaphysics of Innocence
The historical core of Gumilyov's fate—the arrest in the case of the "Petrograd Combat Organization" and the execution without evidence. The Spirit insists on complete non-involvement: "I didn't know about the existence of this organization... They had neither weapons, nor safe houses, nor ciphers... All they had were denunciations."
What is interesting here is not so much historical accuracy (this is a separate question of source criticism) as the existential category introduced by this testimony: death without guilt as a special spiritual status. In religious traditions, there has long been a concept of the "innocently slain"—from the biblical Abel to the martyrs, whose death is sacralized precisely by the absence of personal involvement in the crime imputed to them. The Spirit of Gumilyov, in essence, inserts himself into this archetypal lineage: a victim of the system, not a participant in the conspiracy.
It is significant that the Spirit refuses both the role of a hero-fighter ("I was not a conspirator") and the role of a repentant guilty party. He occupies a third, less convenient position for mythologization—the position of a random victim of a historical mechanism that ground up a man without personal guilt and without personal heroism, simply because the mechanism had to grind someone up, and the name was well-known. This is perhaps the soberest of all the admissions made—it strips death of a heroic aura and leaves it naked, devoid of meaning at the level of earthly causality. Meaning, if it exists, is found not in politics, but in that spiritual accounting of levels discussed in Chapter 1.
Chapter 4. The Theology of the Creative Act: The Poet as a Minor Demiurge
A separate analysis deserves the theological remark on the nature of poetry: the Greek poieō—"to create," hence "Poet" as the name of God the Creator in the Greek text of Scripture, and hence the thought that "any poet repeats the actions of God—brings a poem into the world, just as God brings the Universe into existence."
This is not an original theological idea in itself—it goes back to the Platonic and Patristic tradition of understanding poiesis as an act in which form is introduced into matter in the image of divine creation. But what is important here is not the genealogy of the idea, but how it explains the phenomenon of creative forgetting described here: "When you write in the flow, the poems evaporate from memory along with the exit from the flow. If you don't write it down within 15 minutes—you've lost it."
If we take the analogy of the poet with the demiurge seriously, this amnesia ceases to be a curiosity and becomes a structural property of the act of creation as such: the creator does not retain the process of creation in conscious memory—he retains only the result. God, according to apophatic theology, is unknowable not because He hides Himself, but because the act of creation surpasses the categories operated by created consciousness. The poet in a state of flow temporarily finds himself outside the usual categories of his own psyche—hence the impossibility of subsequently "remembering" how the poem was written, which he nevertheless recognizes as his own.
This poses a nontrivial question for the spiritual psychology of creativity: where does authorship end and mediation begin? If the state of flow is a temporary exit beyond the boundaries of the personal ego into an area where other laws operate, then the traditional concept of "author's style" needs clarification: style is not what the poet consciously chooses, but the frequency range to which his instrument of perception is tuned, just as different antennas pick up different waves of the same ether.
Chapter 5. Forgiveness as the Highest Form of Courage: Reinterpreting Military Ethics
The Spirit, twice awarded the St. George Cross, utters a phrase that turns traditional heroics upside down: "Cultivate masculinity through sports and helping the weak, not through killing." And regarding the current war between Russia and Ukraine, he formulates: "We need to find the courage to admit mistakes and make peace—that is also courage."
Here a semantic shift occurs, important for spiritual ethics: courage ceases to be a one-way quality directed outward (against the enemy) and becomes a quality directed inward (against one's own pride). Traditional military valor requires fortitude under enemy fire; the ethics proposed here requires fortitude under the fire of one's own self-love—the ability to be the first to say "I was wrong" in a situation where it is perceived by others as weakness.
Noteworthy also is the explanation of the causes of war, given not through ideology, but through the category of accumulated unforgiven grievances of the elites, transmitted downward to entire nations. This is consonant with an old spiritual intuition that collective catastrophes are the personal traumas of those in power, magnified to historical scale. Forgiveness here appears not as a private virtue, but as a category of geopolitical significance—the only known mechanism that breaks the chain of mutual retribution.
Conclusion: Why the Living Need a Voice from the Pillar of Fire
The collection "The Pillar of Fire" was published after the author's execution—the book outran the poet's death by a few months. This historical coincidence acquires symbolic force applied to the theme of the entire session: a voice that continues to sound after the body has fallen silent.
The value of such testimony—beyond the question of its literal authenticity—lies in the fact that it offers a holistic cosmology in which earthly biography is a brief but meaningful episode of a long evolution; where death is devoid of horror if experienced without resistance; where innocent death fits into the ancient archetype of the victim, not needing heroization; where creativity is a temporary participation in the demiurgic act; and where the highest form of strength is not the ability to withstand a bullet, but the ability to admit one's wrongness.
To the living, this offers no cheap consolation. It offers a different metric for the value of human life—not by the number of years lived, not by posthumous fame, but by whether that very lesson was passed for which the soul, if one trusts this picture of the world, took on the body of a poet born in Kronstadt on April 3, 1886.
This text is a spiritual-philosophical essay-study, built on the premise of a thought experiment about the reality of mediumistic contact. It does not claim to be a historical or literary source and does not contain verifiable factual statements about the afterlife; all conclusions are interpretive in nature.
GENSPARK AI - Not a Feat and Not a Confession:
A Spiritual-Psychological Essay-Study on the Thirst for Recognition, the Permeability of the Soul, and Unassimilated Freedom in the Session with the Spirit of Nikolai Gumilyov
Introduction: A Different Angle of View
If the two previous analyses read this session as, on the one hand, a demythologization of the hero, and on the other, as a metaphysical report on death and the afterlife, here I propose a different approach: to read the entire material as a study of the drama of recognition. Not "who Gumilyov really was," not "whether the afterlife is correctly described," but how the soul constructs itself through the gaze of another—through the gaze of father, beloved woman, tribe, literary milieu, emperor, state, war, spiritual curators, and, finally, God.
Then almost all the episodes of the session—from love of trees to money magic, from Akhmatova to Africa, from the trench to the execution pit—add up to one internal architecture. This is the story not so much of a proud poet, but of a being that is very dependent on external confirmation, but at the same time painfully wants to become internally free.
This, in my opinion, is the nerve of the entire session.
1. The Main Plot of the Session Is Not Biography, But the Struggle for Sanctioning One's Own Existence
In an ordinary biography, a person lives, acts, loves, makes mistakes. In this session, almost every major turn is experienced by Gumilyov not just as an event, but as an act of sanctioning or desanctioning his being.
Let's see which episodes he himself names as key. Not the creation of Acmeism, not literary victories, not even military awards. He highlights: Akhmatova's consent, the birth of his son, the initiation in Africa. That is, not events of "result," but events of recognition: I was chosen; a new life came through me; I was accepted by another people. This is extremely important. His soul, judging by the session, measures reality not by achievement, but by whether he is recognized by someone significant.
Hence it becomes clear why school failure is not experienced by him as a tragedy, but a woman's refusal—is. Why the opinion of the program and discipline has little effect, but the gaze of trees, women, tribes, mentors, and spiritual entities—has a strong effect. For such a psyche, knowledge is important not as a system, but as a relationship. He doesn't "study the world"—he seeks who in the world will recognize him.
Hence the strange intensity of his reactions: where another person would see a refusal or conflict, he experiences an ontological blow—as if the world itself tells him: you are not approved.
2. Childhood Among Trees: The First Form of Non-Judgmental Recognition
One of the most subtle fragments of the session is the story about childhood. He says that he loved not lessons, but nature; that his best friends were trees; that he would come to them and "tell them everything," felt them alive. This can be read not as a sentimental detail, but as a crucial spiritual-psychological matrix.
A tree is an ideal interlocutor for a vulnerable soul:
it is present, but does not intrude;
listens, but does not argue;
does not judge, but endures.
In other words, the first "correct audience" for Gumilyov is not school, not father, not the literary community, but a silent living presence that does not humiliate.
This explains a lot. All subsequent life turns out to be an attempt to return this lost quality of the world—a form of recognition where you are accepted without an exam. But the adult world almost never does that. It demands, compares, distributes statuses, tests strength, beauty, usefulness, political loyalty. And therefore, childhood harmony with the living world later disintegrates into a painful dependence on human response.
From a spiritual point of view, an important paradox lies hidden here: a person initially capable of deep connection with being turns out to be subsequently especially vulnerable to social coldness. The finer the sensitivity, the more dangerous the collision with the world of hierarchies.
3. Woman as the Court of Being: Not Love, But Sentence or Acquittal
Previous analyses have already touched on the theme of Akhmatova, so I won't repeat the line of the "inferiority complex." What matters to me more is something else: in this session, a woman acts not just as an object of love, but as a judge of a man's metaphysical dignity.
When Gumilyov says that Akhmatova's consent was important to him not for a fleeting relationship, but for an official marriage, he formulates not a romantic, but an almost sacred logic. He needs not just access to a woman, but a seal of authenticity: if a strict, selective, inner woman says "yes," it means my existence is affirmed on a deep level.
This is no longer eroticism. This is spiritual justice.
Hence the whole horror of refusal. The refusal of a beloved woman is experienced not as "she didn't choose me," but as "the world didn't sign my right to be myself." Therefore, consent becomes not just happiness, but a religious event. And for the same reason, the subsequent cooling in marriage is so destructive: having received the sacred "yes," he discovers that the external form of recognition does not yet mean internal connection.
In this sense, the session shows a very important psychological truth:
official recognition does not heal inner unaffirmedness.
You can receive the desired sign from outside and still remain in the previous emptiness.
This applies not only to love. Fame, awards, positions, discipleship, political victory are structured the same way. The symbol of recognition comes, but the thirst does not dry up—because its source is deeper.
4. Africa as a Space Not of Exoticism, But of Second Birth
In the usual cultural optics, Africa for Gumilyov is exoticism, romance, ethnographic drive, adventure. But if you read the session carefully, Africa appears quite differently: as a territory where he experiences alternative human recognition, independent of the capital's literary hierarchy.
There he is met, given gifts, led to chiefs, listened to as a man from the capital of the empire, initiated into sorcerers. That is, there he first experiences the feeling: I am needed not because I correspond to the taste of the salon, but because my presence really means something.
The moment of initiation is especially important, which he himself cites among the three main events of his life. Why? Because initiation is not a compliment or a romance. It is a ritual act in which the community tells a person: we see in you a function, a strength, a place. You are not just loved or praised. You are integrated into the symbolic order.
This is perhaps what he lacked in Russia. In the Russian cultural environment, he constantly had to prove himself. In Africa, at some point he finds himself not proving, but accepted.
Therefore, Africa in the session is not an escape from civilization, but a search for a world where identity can still be obtained through ritual, rather than through endless self-justification.
5. Occultism, Poetry, and Mediumship: Not a Craving for Mystery, But a Craving for Permeability
It is very important not to reduce his stories about spirits, plasmoids, rituals, and magic to a curiosity. Within the session, these plots form a unified anthropology: Gumilyov thinks of man as a permeable being.
Trees can influence him.
Curators can help him.
Poems can be "transmitted" through him.
Fear can attract an entity.
Hatred can attract killers.
Ritual can enhance financial flow.
Posthumous analysis can relive episodes anew.
That is, a person here is not an autonomous individual of modernity, but a node of exchanges between worlds.
This is psychologically extremely interesting. Many internal states that are considered solely "mine" in secular culture are understood in this picture of the world as open channels. Inspiration is not only mine. Hatred is not just an emotion, but an energetic connection. Fear is not just a reaction, but food for an entity. Even money enters here not as economics, but as a special density of attention, energy, and intention.
From this follows a special responsibility: if a person is permeable, he cannot afford the luxury of considering thoughts "just thoughts." Then envy, the cult of resentment, jealousy, humiliation—are no longer private psychic episodes, but forms of spiritual action.
This is precisely why this session can be read as a powerful warning:
not every inner life is innocent.
6. War as the Destruction of a False Center
The fragments about the war are among the deepest. But their main content, as it seems to me, is not heroism and not trauma. War in his account is an event that breaks the artificial center of personality.
As long as a person lives in a world of self-love, aesthetics, romantic play, his "I" is built around images of himself. War introduces a completely different scale: life turns out to be cheaper than a bullet, the body—instantly vulnerable, death—a constant neighbor. In such a reality, subtle narcissistic constructions collapse. What yesterday seemed like a tragedy of dignity, today turns out to be small before the face of total destruction.
He directly says that after the war, he would have looked differently at the story with Akhmatova. This is the most important admission. Not because the war "made him a man" in the banal sense, but because the confrontation with the ultimate erases the false absoluteness of personal drama.
But there is also a flip side. War not only cleanses of self-love—it also cripples trust. He says that those who have been through real combat find it hard to trust people, God, and life again. That is, war removes the false center, but does not give a true one. It takes away illusions, but does not necessarily heal the soul.
This is a very accurate spiritual-psychological observation:
extreme experience can destroy the ego, but by itself it does not give birth to love.
It makes a person more serious, but not necessarily freer.
7. Politics as a Late Possession: When Unlived Pain Seeks a Historical Object
Especially interesting is the turn from declared indifference to politics—to participation in a conspiracy after the news of the execution of the royal family and the events in Kronstadt. If you read this superficially, you get a simple plot: a monarchist became enraged and radicalized. But in a spiritual-psychological sense, something more subtle happens.
Politics in his account for a long time does not become a truly internal theme for him. He lives by poetry, love, travel, symbols. But then an event occurs that not only convinces him intellectually, but pierces the emotional core. He describes an almost bodily reaction: a fog in the eyes, rage, tearing up a newspaper, a vow of retribution. This is no longer an opinion. It is a seizure by affect.
From this moment, politics becomes a vessel for unbearable internal energy. Hatred seeks an address. The idea of the state, the party, the egregor becomes the form into which personal pain from injustice pours.
This is an extremely modern plot. People rarely radicalize because they have carefully thought everything through. More often—because an internally wounded feeling finds a historical target. Then the political enemy becomes not an opponent, but a vessel for accumulated spiritual fire.
The session in this respect is frighteningly modern: it shows how undigested moral pain turns into a readiness to enter a destructive circuit. Even if the original grievance is morally understandable, the form of its assimilation can be deadly.
8. His Main Problem Is Not Passion, But the Inability to Tolerate the Freedom of Another
In questions about love, betrayals, jealousy, and "female nature," one stable motif slips through, which, it seems to me, is more important than everyday morality. This is the problem of the unassimilated freedom of another person.
He reacts painfully to refusal.
He is hurt by coldness.
It is important for him not only to be loved, but for love to mean confirmation of his value.
When a woman is already "conquered," interest fades.
When a woman becomes dependent, he feels cramped.
When she is free—he wants her.
When she is near—he is drawn further.
Before us is not just womanizing and not just neurosis. This is a special split: he needs both recognition and the inviolability of his own freedom, but he tolerates poorly that the other person also possesses the same freedom.
Hence his unhappiness: he wants a union where the other would freely choose him—and thereby forever remove his inner anxiety. But the free choice of the other cannot permanently fulfill this function. The freedom of the other, by definition, does not turn into an eternal guarantee.
This is one of the most fundamental spiritual conclusions from the session:
love becomes destructive when it is entrusted with the task of stabilizing the self-worth of the individual.
Then the other person turns from a mystery into a tool of internal insurance. And it is at this moment that love ceases to be love, even if outwardly it remains passionate.
9. Poetry in This Session Is Not Self-Expression, But a Regime of Permissible Self-Dissolution
His words about poetry are surprising not because the poet creates "like God," but because in the act of creation he ceases to be rigidly self-identical. He speaks of the flow, of forgetting what was written, of co-authorship, of the text later being read as someone else's. This can be read as the mysticism of inspiration. But it can also be read deeper: as a description of the only sphere where for him the loss of rigid control over himself is not humiliating, but gracious.
In love, loss of control humiliates him.
In politics, seizure by affect destroys him.
In war, the threat of loss of body traumatizes him.
And in poetry, the loss of a "firm self" suddenly becomes a source of meaning.
That is, poetry is a channel where the permeability of the soul does not destroy, but creates.
That is why in this session poetry turns out to be spiritually higher than politics and eroticism. Not because "poetry is more beautiful," but because only in it can a person go beyond the limits of the ego without violence against himself and others. In it, openness does not lead to possession, but leads to form.
And therefore the poetic word here is not a genre, but a spiritual practice of safe self-exceeding.
10. The Most Radical Thought of the Session: Evil Decreases Not by Victory, But by Refusal of the Energy Contract with It
One of the viewers asks: how to behave correctly in the face of flagrant injustice? The answer given on behalf of the Spirit is perhaps the main spiritual thesis of the entire material. Its meaning is not in the banal "forgive everyone," but in the fact that evil holds a person primarily through internal consent to become its carrier.
When he says that one should look at tragedy as a heavy game of spirits, does that mean moral blindness? In my opinion, no. It means a radical attempt to break the chain of affective infection. If you respond to evil with hatred, you not only condemn evil—you sign an internal contract with it. Then it is no longer only outside, but also inside you.
This is precisely how he explains his own fate: not as a punishment for an opinion, but as a consequence of the fact that hatred of the state egregor built him into a destructive circuit. One can argue with this metaphysics, but its psychological truth is strong: a person often perishes not only from an external enemy, but also from the form of internal complicity that he himself has nurtured.
This is one of the most mature thoughts of the session. Forgiveness here is not sentimentality and not political capitulation. It is a way not to lease evil to your soul.
11. The Posthumous State Is Described Not as Triumph, But as Work on Processing an Uncollected Life
It is also important that the posthumous Gumilyov in the session does not resemble a triumphantly enlightened sage. He is secluded, analyzes, compares, mentally relives episodes, works on karmic knots. His "white palace" is not a victor's reward, but rather a space for intense internal laboratory work.
This significantly distinguishes this material from primitive spiritualistic consolations. Here, the afterlife does not cancel the complexity of the personality; it only removes the coarse flesh and strengthens the need for internal work.
That is, the soul does not receive magical completion after death. It receives the inevitability of clarity.
This is a very serious thought. We often imagine that after death all contradictions are automatically resolved. But the logic of the session is different: death does not complete the unfinished; it only deprives us of distracting decorations and returns us to what we failed to gather within ourselves.
Conclusion: The True Theme of the Session Is How to Become Yourself Without Making Another Your Mirror
If we compress all the material into one philosophical question, it would sound like this:
Can a person find an inner center if all his life he seeks confirmation of himself in external witnesses?
The session shows a tragic and beautiful answer: partially—yes, but at the cost of enormous losses.
Nature gives him an early feeling of the living world.
Love exposes dependence on another's "yes."
Africa gives him a ritual of recognition.
Poetry opens up creative permeability.
War destroys false scales.
Political hatred shows how easily righteous feeling turns into a deadly bond.
Death removes the veils and transfers everything into a regime of merciless revision.
Therefore, I would formulate the main spiritual-psychological conclusion as follows:
the soul perishes not only from evil, but also from the wrong way of seeking good.
You can seek love so that love becomes dependence.
You can seek justice so that justice becomes hatred.
You can seek recognition so that recognition becomes an idol.
You can seek strength so that strength turns out to be only fear of humiliation.
And only where a person ceases to make another the guarantor of his own being does mature freedom begin.
In this sense, the session with the "Spirit of Gumilyov"—if we accept it as a thought experiment—speaks not so much about the poet of the Silver Age, but about a universal human ailment: we too often try to gain the right to be through the eyes of others. And too late we realize that neither a woman, nor a people, nor an award, nor an enemy, nor even historical rightness can give the soul what it must grow as an inner standing before God.
That is why this is not a story about a famous poet.
This is a story about how a permeable, gifted, passionate soul learns not to dissolve in what calls it, and not to perish from what rejects it.
Methodological Note: This text is an interpretive spiritual-psychological essay, built on the material of the session published by the Cassiopeia project, and consciously adopts the internal logic of the session as a working framework for analysis, and not as a verified historical or scientific statement about the afterlife.
PERPLEXITY AI - Below is the original spiritual-psychological essay-study, written not as a retelling, but as an independent interpretation of the semantic field of the session, with an emphasis on the internal dynamics of the personality, the symbolism of the path, and the conflict between spiritual search and earthly form.
Gumilyov as a Figure of Spiritual Verticality
The session about Nikolai Gumilyov reveals not so much the "biography of the spirit," but the drama of consciousness that strives to go beyond the usual human measure. In this image, what is important is not the exoticism of travels and not the occult reputation, but a deeper motive: a man for whom the world was always more than a social norm, and who therefore inevitably found himself on the border between culture, myth, religion, and inner loneliness. Gumilyov in this reading is not just an Acmeist poet, but an archetype of an explorer of sacred space, seeking a form for what does not fit into everyday life.
The spiritual-psychological interest here is centered on the tension between purpose and adaptation. A personality oriented towards scale is rarely "comfortable": it tolerates routine poorly, accepts external demands with difficulty, and often seems absent-minded, unsuccessful, or even stubborn. But it is precisely this seeming maladaptation that sometimes testifies not to weakness, but to the fact that the psyche lives not at the level of ready-made schemes, but at the level of searching for its own axis.
Nature as a Form of Knowledge
One of the key motifs of the session is the exceptional attraction to nature: to trees, animals, birds, to direct living reality. Psychologically, this is important because nature here acts not as a background, but as the primary language of being, more reliable than school discipline, bookish scholasticism, or social demands. Such a person does not just "love nature"—he receives from it confirmation of his own reality, and through it, of his inner voice.
In a spiritual perspective, this means a special type of perception: knowledge comes not through abstract assimilation, but through resonance. The world is felt not as a set of objects, but as a living environment in which everything is correlated and mutually hears each other. Hence the feeling of trees as friends: this is not naivety, but a form of animistic sensitivity, where the psyche has not yet broken the connection between the subject and the living cosmos.
Studies and Inner Disproportion
The theme of the "poor student" in the session is actually much deeper than the everyday plot about poor academic performance. It shows a classic conflict between the institutional system of personality formation and the inner impulse that does not obey this system. When a person does not respond to an imposed format, he is often considered lazy or unfocused, but spiritual psychology sees a different phenomenon in this: a mismatch between the rhythm of the soul and the rhythm of the environment.
If the psyche lives in a mode of images, premonitions, symbols, and inner freedom, then the linear curriculum is experienced as violence against attention. Hence not only boredom, but also physical fatigue, headaches, a feeling of meaninglessness. In this sense, "failure" may not be a defect, but a signal that the energy of the personality is seeking a different channel of expression.
The Poet as a Servant of Risk
A special role in the session is played by the motif of spiritualistic experiments and appeals to destructive entities. Here an important psychological law is revealed: a person of high sensitivity is almost always in a zone of increased symbolic and emotional risk. His interest in mystery, the forbidden, and the otherworldly may be not just curiosity, but an attempt to expand the boundaries of consciousness, but it is precisely here that the danger arises of confusing spiritual expansion with openness to chaotic influences.
Therefore, the figure of the poet in this case resembles not a salon aesthete, but a mediator who enters zones where consciousness easily loses stability. The search for the "unusual" becomes a test of maturity: is the person capable of distinguishing between inspiration, fear, self-deception, and real inner movements? In a spiritual-psychological sense, this is one of the central lessons of the session: not every depth is healing, and not every darkness gives knowledge.
Occult Craving and the Thirst for Control
Occult practices, talismans, rituals for growth and luck in this text can be read not only as a historical-cultural detail, but also as a symptom of a human attempt to come to terms with uncertainty. When a poet's life depends on royalties, recognition, and unpredictable circumstances, magical thinking becomes a form of psychological compensation: if you cannot fully control the world, you can at least create a sign of control.
But deeper than this lies another layer. For artistic consciousness, ritual is a way to make the invisible visible, and the internal—externally formalized. Therefore, occult practice here expresses a duality: on the one hand, a striving for power over circumstances, on the other, a need for a symbolic language that gives life a meaningful form. Magic turns out to be not only a technique, but also an aesthetic of attitude towards reality.
Africa as a Call of the Archetype
The motif of Africa in the session appears as a central symbol of the expansion of horizons. This is not just a geographical attraction to warm countries, but an archetypal call to a different world, where consciousness can emerge from its usual cultural shell. Africa in this context is a space of pristine nature, rhythm, physicality, myth, natural power, and a different way of being.
For spiritual-psychological analysis, it is important that the journey here is not reduced to external movement. It becomes a way of reconstructing oneself, a test of one's own authenticity in contact with the other. Such a person seeks not tourism, but an experience of contact with otherness, because only in a collision with the alien can he hear his own again.
Freedom, Duty, and Self-Support
Special attention deserves the theme of responsibility for the chosen path. In the session, the poet is not presented as a romantic dreamer living on miracles—on the contrary, the need to provide for one's own choice is emphasized. This is a very mature motif: spiritual purpose does not cancel earthly discipline, and creativity does not remove the obligation to reality.
Here an important psychological principle arises: a true path does not necessarily make life easier, but it requires that a person stops expecting the world to fully compensate for his inner choice. This position forms not martyrdom, but dignity. It is what makes artistic and spiritual freedom sustainable, not decorative.
Conclusion
If we look at this session as a spiritual-psychological text, its main meaning lies in the depiction of a personality that lives on the border between inspiration and chaos, between vocation and temptation, between natural intuition and cultural form. Gumilyov here acts as an image of consciousness that seeks not comfort, but intensity; not adaptation, but fidelity to inner calling.
That is why his figure is important not only as a literary one, but also as an existential one. It shows that the spiritual path rarely looks outwardly correct: it often passes through absent-mindedness, inconsistency, experiment, risk, and mistakes. But if the axis of meaning is preserved in a person, even contradictions become part of the work of the spirit, and not just evidence of its disintegration.
COPILOT AI -
🔥 VOICE FROM THE PILLAR OF FIRE
A Spiritual-Psychological Study of the Session with Nikolai Gumilyov as a Phenomenon of Inner Human Metaphysics
Brief Thesis
The session with the "spirit of Gumilyov" reveals not so much the posthumous biography of the poet, but the structure of human spiritual psyche: its ability to create multi-layered metaphysical models in which biography, myth, trauma, creativity, and cosmology are intertwined into a single act of self-knowledge.
I. The Pillar of Fire as an Archetype: Why the "Spirit of Gumilyov" Speaks Thus
The session demonstrates a rare phenomenon: spiritual speech, styled in the manner of Gumilyov himself, but going beyond the limits of his earthly personality.
This is not just a "posthumous dialogue," but a projection of the archetype of the Poet-Traveler, which in Russian culture has always been associated with fire, verticality, and overcoming.
The document contains the phrase:
"The word 'poet' comes from the Greek poieō – 'to create.' In the Greek Bible, God is called 'Poet'."
This thought is the key to understanding the entire session.
It turns the poet into a metaphysical creator who not only writes poems, but creates worlds, and therefore naturally speaks of:
spiritual levels,
plasmoid incarnations,
cosmic contracts,
energy flows,
fate as a vibrational structure.
This is not "science fiction," but the language of the inner spiritual psyche, which seeks to explain its own biography through cosmology.
II. The Multi-Layered Structure of Consciousness: How the Session Reveals the Structure of the Human Soul
The session shows that human consciousness is capable of working simultaneously in several registers:
1. Biographical Layer
Gumilyov talks about childhood, studies, women, duel, war.
This is a layer of facts, but it is constantly refracted through other levels.
2. Mythopoetic Layer
Every fact turns into a symbol:
Africa—not geography, but a memory of incarnation in Egypt.
Akhmatova—not a woman, but a test of male identity.
The Duel—not a conflict, but a lesson of fate.
War—not history, but an initiation of the spirit.
3. Cosmological Layer
Here biography becomes part of a huge metaphysical scheme:
spiritual levels (9 → 15 → 16),
incarnations on Venus, Disaru,
plasmoid forms,
soul contracts,
egregores of war.
4. Psychotherapeutic Layer
Through cosmology, psychological traumas are verbalized:
feeling of inferiority,
fear of being unloved,
dependence on female recognition,
guilt for rudeness,
post-traumatic war experience.
5. Spiritual-Ethical Layer
The session turns into a reflection on:
responsibility,
masculinity,
freedom,
creation,
the meaning of human life.
This multi-layeredness is the main phenomenon: the spiritual psyche of a person is capable of creating entire worlds to explain its own destiny.
III. Psychology of the Spirit: Why "Gumilyov" Speaks of 767 Incarnations and Plasmoids
The document contains the phrase:
"In my previous incarnation, I was a plasmoid... I came from the 22nd level, but lowered my vibrations to the 9th."
This is not just esotericism.
This is a metaphor for the spiritual dynamics of personality.
Plasmoid as an Image of a Hypersensitive Soul
A plasmoid is a creature without a solid form.
So is Gumilyov: a man who all his life suffered from:
vulnerability,
jealousy,
grievances,
feelings of humiliation,
striving for recognition.
The plasmoid is an ideal symbol of a soul without skin, reacting to the slightest touch.
Lowering Vibrations as Psychological Regression
"Lowered vibrations because of jealousy" is an image of how strong emotions can destroy a person's spiritual structure.
767 Incarnations as the Archetype of the Eternal Wanderer
Gumilyov was always a traveler—both earthly and spiritual.
The number of incarnations is not a fact, but a metaphysical poetics of the soul's wanderings.
IV. Love as a Spiritual Wound: Akhmatova and the Metaphysics of Male Identity
The session reveals an amazing psychological truth:
Gumilyov perceived Akhmatova's refusal as a threat to his existence.
"I perceived this 'no' as the absence of meaning in existence."
This is not just a romantic drama.
This is an existential wound that shapes the spiritual biography of a person.
Why Akhmatova?
Because she was:
strict,
inaccessible,
independent,
strong.
That is, the embodiment of the archetype of the Great Woman, before whom a man must prove his worth.
Why Did Refusal Destroy Him?
Because he was a "plasmoid"—a soul without protection.
Any refusal turned into a blow to the very essence.
Why Did He Pursue Her?
Because through her he tried to assert:
his masculinity,
his right to love,
his spiritual significance.
Akhmatova was not a woman, but an initiation.
V. The Duel as a Metaphysical Ritual: Why Gumilyov Was Ready to Die
The duel with Voloshin is not just a conflict.
It is a ritual of testing fate.
"If I am guilty before you, I am ready to atone for my guilt with blood."
This is not bravado.
This is an archetypal action: a man tests his spiritual strength through the risk of death.
Misfire as a Sign of Fate
Two misfires in a row are a symbol that:
the lesson must be learned,
but death must not occur.
This is a classic structure of "initiation without death."
VI. War as Spiritual Transformation: Why He Went as a Volunteer
Gumilyov says:
"I went as a volunteer to develop courage."
This is a rare admission:
war is not heroism, but a psychological training of the spirit.
What Was He Looking For in War?
overcoming fear,
confirmation of masculinity,
purification from doubts,
experience of ultimate reality.
What Did He Get?
trauma,
loss of trust in the world,
destruction of illusions,
spiritual maturation.
War became an initiation through horror, the opposite of poetic inspiration.
VII. The Poet as a Spiritual Mechanism: What Inspiration Is in a Metaphysical Sense
The session gives a rare definition of creativity:
"A poem is an expression of the energy of the Soul. It has its own rhythm."
This is not aesthetics.
This is spiritual physiology.
The Poet is a Channel
He speaks of "co-authors" who connect to the poet.
This is an image of the fact that inspiration is:
a flow,
transmitted energy,
a state of expanded consciousness.
Why Are Poems Forgotten?
Because they are written "in the flow," which disappears along with the completion of the creative act.
Why Is It Necessary to Write Down?
Because inspiration is a temporary window between worlds.
VIII. The Egregor of War: A Spiritual Interpretation of the Modern Conflict
Gumilyov says:
"Any war is fair for all sides—they wage it because of a violated sense of justice."
This is not a political statement.
This is a spiritual-psychological model of conflict.
War as a Clash of Elite Grievances
He describes war as a result of:
accumulated grievances,
broken trust,
emotional debts between leaders.
This is a rare thought:
war is not ideology, but the psychology of power.
IX. Main Conclusion: The Session Is Not a Conversation with a Spirit, But a Conversation with the Deep Structure of the Human Soul
The session reveals:
how a person explains his life through cosmology,
how traumas turn into metaphysical plots,
how creativity becomes a spiritual act,
how biography turns into myth,
how love becomes an initiation,
how war becomes a test of spirit.
This is not just a "posthumous dialogue."
This is a metaphysical autobiography of the human psyche, striving for meaning, verticality, and fire.
https://blog.cassiopeia.center/nikolaj-gumilyov-mediumicheskij-seans-s-duhom-ches
Cassiopeia #892 Nikolai Gumilyov. Mediumistic session with the Spirit. Honest conversation with a poet.
00:00 Start of the video.
00:01 Opening remarks by the host. The meaning of the event.
Igor: Dear friends, I am glad to welcome you to another mediumistic session from the cycle of our conversations with the Spirits of great poets and writers of the past, which we conduct jointly with the "Cassiopeia" project.
Every time before the start of each such session, I come out and say something, more or less the same thing, but counting on the fact that, of course, new people are joining us. I see many faces in the hall and recognize those who come to us regularly, and we have communicated with the Spirits of both Dostoevsky and Chekhov together. But there are also new people who may not really understand where they have come.
Most likely, they were attracted by the name of Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilyov, and today we intend to communicate with the Spirit of this very poet. And they don't understand what awaits them. Maybe some kind of theatrical performance or some kind of exorcism session. What will happen? And here I need to delicately and carefully, without scaring these people, warn them that yes, indeed, that is how it is—we communicate with Spirits. Why? Because we have the good fortune to live at the same time as Irina Podzorova—a unique contactee who has the ability to make these contacts.
But I must warn you that this is not like in pioneer camps: "Spirit of Napoleon, appear!" No, it doesn't happen like that for us. Each meeting is preceded by serious preparation. Irina's curators, at her request, specifically search for these Souls in the Spiritual World, convey our, so to speak, wishes to meet, explain the meaning of this meeting, and most often receive preliminary consent. That is, long before we finally meet here. Sometimes it's not so much a refusal as a technical impossibility. This is when, for example, the Spirit has already gone into a new incarnation.
Yes, we, of course, proceed from the fact that the Soul is eternal, and it incarnates many times in order to undergo new trials and improve its position in the Spiritual World. So, for example, we are still, unfortunately, deprived of the opportunity to ask questions to Anna Akhmatova or Alexander Blok. Nevertheless, I assure you, we still have enough names, and I constantly hear some new recommendations, wishes, we write them down, take them into account. Our list is quite large. Unfortunately, we cannot hold our meetings so intensively, but as far as possible we will do it.
How did this idea come about? Our Bryusov Hall, such a small hall—it is literature-centric. We hold poetry evenings here, modern poets read us poetry. To my surprise, interest in modern poetry has somehow increased again. We hold literary readings. And at some point, a couple of years ago, we had an idea: "How about we communicate with departed poets and writers?" And then it turned out that there really is a unique person—Irina Podzorova, a unique person, I never tire of repeating this, thanks to whom we have this opportunity.
I digressed a little. For those who are here for the first time: I don't force you to think that way, so that you don't get distracted. This will last for two, or maybe three hours, depending on how it goes—how talkative our interlocutor turns out to be, we don't know.
And there are some viewers who come and spend all this time trying to figure out through what technical communication channels Irina receives hints to the questions I will ask her. I feel so sorry for these people because they do this instead of listening and delving into the meaning of the answers that our interlocutor will offer us through Irina. And they deserve, I assure you, separate attention and interest, regardless of who pronounces them. Because, in my opinion, these are, as a rule, always incredibly deep answers.
Here's what's important to understand here. It seems to me, what is the special value of these meetings: the Spirit after discarnation gets the opportunity to analyze everything that happened to him during his life. His entire life opens before him, so to speak, in all its totality of cause-and-effect relationships. And what seemed to him, like any of us here on Earth, an incomprehensible sequence of some events, there, after discarnation, suddenly opens up a completely new perspective. And we understand the nature of the events, our own anxieties, hardships, and deprivations that we encountered in life.
It is precisely this experience, the posthumous experience of the Soul in analyzing its earthly life, that seems to me most valuable. And in this regard, it is naturally more convenient to trace such experience on the biographies of famous people whom we love, whose work we value, and whose fate we know more or less.
We have traditionally prepared a short biographical film about our hero, just to remind you of the main milestones of his biography, to make it easier to navigate the twists and turns of his fate during the main part of our conversation. So, attention to the screen.
(applause)
05:35 Biography of Nikolai Gumilyov.
(video presentation)
Voiceover: Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilyov was born on April 3, 1886, in Kronstadt, the third child in the family of a ship's doctor. He spent his childhood in Tsarskoye Selo.
He was interested in poetry from a young age. His first poem was published in the magazine "Tiflis Leaf" in Georgia, where the family spent three years. After returning to Tsarskoye Selo, Nikolai enters the gymnasium, the director of which is the poet Innokenty Annensky. Upon graduating from the educational institution, Gumilyov goes to Paris, where he attends lectures at the Sorbonne, meets writers and artists, and publishes the magazine "Sirius".
By this time, Gumilyov had already published his first book of poems, "The Path of the Conquistadors," at his own expense, which was noticed, although criticized, by Valery Bryusov. Gumilyov corresponds with the master from Paris, sends new poems, which Bryusov publishes in the symbolist magazine "Libra".
The poet's second book, "Romantic Flowers," is published, well received by both critics and readers. This collection includes the poem "Giraffe," dedicated to Anna Gorenko, with whom Gumilyov has been in love for four years.
In 1908, the poet travels to Africa for the first time, visits Cairo, and bathes in the Nile. He will make three more expeditions to the African continent.
Upon returning to Russia, Gumilyov enters St. Petersburg University, attends the "Ivanov Wednesdays" in Vyacheslav Ivanov's tower, together with him creates the poetic society "Academy of Verse," meets famous artists. In the new magazine "Apollo," founded by critic Sergei Makovsky, Gumilyov occupies a key position, publishing his poems and running the section "Letters on Russian Poetry."
A poetic hoax staged in this magazine by Maximilian Voloshin leads to a duel with Gumilyov, which, however, ends bloodlessly. The reason for the duel was the poetess Elizaveta Dmitrieva, to whom Gumilyov unsuccessfully proposed.
In the autumn of 1909, the poet makes his second trip to Africa, visiting Somalia and Abyssinia. Upon returning from the expedition, he releases his third collection of poems, "Pearls," which brings him wide fame. In 1910, Gumilyov marries Anna Gorenko, the future poetess Anna Akhmatova. Two years later, their son Lev is born. The newlyweds spend the summer after the wedding in Paris, and in the autumn Gumilyov again leaves for Africa.
In the autumn of 1911, after a quarrel with Vyacheslav Ivanov, Gumilyov, together with the poet Sergei Gorodetsky, creates the literary association "Guild of Poets," as well as the program of a new literary movement—Acmeism. The new association includes Anna Akhmatova, Osip Mandelstam, and Vladimir Narbut. The Acmeists oppose themselves to the Symbolists, preaching clarity, objectivity, and precision of artistic form. The ideas of the new movement are embodied in the collection "Alien Sky."
In April 1913, under the auspices of the Academy of Sciences, Nikolai Gumilyov set off on his longest journey through Africa. He collects ethnographic material, takes photographs, meets with the leaders of local tribes. The collection of objects collected on this expedition is still kept in the Kunstkamera.
With the outbreak of World War I, Gumilyov goes to the front as a volunteer, joins a horse reconnaissance platoon, and twice receives the St. George Cross for personal bravery. The newspaper "Birzhevye Vedomosti" regularly publishes his military essays under the heading "Notes of a Cavalryman," and in 1916 a collection of poems, "Quiver," is published.
The October Revolution of 1917 finds Gumilyov in Paris in the position of an officer for special assignments under the military commissar of the Provisional Government. After unsuccessful attempts to go to the Mesopotamian front in the British troops, Gumilyov returns to Russia. At the request of Anna Akhmatova, a divorce is formalized between the spouses, and Gumilyov marries Anna Engelhardt. Soon the couple has a daughter, Elena.
After the revolution, Gumilyov is engaged in literary and teaching activities, publishes a lot, works at the publishing house "World Literature," leads the revived "Guild of Poets" and the "Resounding Shell" studio, and heads the Petrograd branch of the Union of Poets. Together with Mikhail Lozinsky, Gumilyov resumes the activities of the publishing house "Hyperboreas," the first book of which is "Mick"—Gumilyov's African poem. In "Hyperboreas," his new collections "The Porcelain Pavilion" and "The Pyre" are also published.
Despite active work in the structures of the new government, Gumilyov openly criticizes the Bolsheviks, not hiding his monarchist views. In 1921, he is arrested in the case of the so-called Petrograd Combat Organization and accused of a counter-revolutionary conspiracy.
The investigation does not provide convincing evidence; however, on August 24, 1921, Nikolai Gumilyov, along with sixty other prisoners, is executed by firing squad in the Kovalevsky Forest near Petrograd. The exact date of death and burial place are unknown.
The poet's last collection of poems, entitled "The Pillar of Fire," is published after his death. The name of Nikolai Gumilyov is banned in Soviet literature. Only in 1992 was the poet rehabilitated, and his works began to return to the reader.
12:52 Greeting and introduction of Irina.
Igor: Dear friends, now it's time to invite the leader of the "Cassiopeia" community, a universal contactee with extraterrestrial civilizations and the Spiritual World, Irina Podzorova, to the stage.
(applause)
Irina: Hello, dear friends! I welcome you all! My name is Irina Podzorova. I am a contactee with extraterrestrial civilizations, the Spiritual World, and fine-material civilizations.
We continue our cycle of meetings with non-incarnated Spirits of writers, those who in their last incarnations were writers known to us. We have already formed such a literary-mediumistic or spiritualistic club, because we talk about literature and the lives of writers.
Greetings, Igor! Greetings to you, dear friends! Thank you for your attention to this Spirit, who came today, to his life. I invited him to be with us and answer questions that arose for him. He agreed to do this and is present here today.
Igor: Let's welcome the Spirit of Nikolai Stepanovich.
(applause)
Nikolai Stepanovich, first of all, allow me to thank you for responding to our request and agreeing to talk with us.
14:51 The Spirit of Gumilyov greets those present.
Irina: He says: "I greet you all and thank you for the invitation, for your love for my poems, for my art, for the work of my entire life. I know that my poems are very much loved and often read. And they have helped many on their path of spiritual growth."
Igor: Yes, that's absolutely true. But we still have many questions for you.
Irina: He thanked us for our love of his work.
Igor: If you allow, we'll get straight down to business and begin?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, of course.
15:35 Spiritual levels and the number of incarnations of the Spirit of Gumilyov.
Igor: We have the first traditional block. Please tell me, from what spiritual level according to the Interstellar Union system did you incarnate into Nikolai Gumilyov?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): From the 9th.
Igor: And to what level did you leave?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): To the 15th.
Igor: Wow! Dear friends, this is a high level. And then, such an impressive leap. And what was your plan?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): The plan was the 15th – 16th. In general, I aimed for the 16th level.
Igor: Well, you could say you fulfilled it. Can I ask how many incarnations you had in total during this manvantara?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): 767.
Igor: Okay, thank you. And how many of them were on Earth?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): 13.
16:36 The Spirit of Gumilyov about his previous incarnation.
Igor: Can you give any, either the most significant for you, or perhaps in some well-known figures of the past that we are familiar with?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I look in the contactee's memory—they are unknown to you. I can say that the most significant thing for a Spirit is most often its previous incarnation before incarnating again. Since you summoned my Spirit, and I am not currently incarnated, my attention is focused on the memory of that particular incarnation known to you as Nikolai Gumilyov. Although, of course, I was called by many names before, and any of them is my name.
But you want to talk and ask questions specifically to that Soul who has the name and personality of Nikolai Gumilyov. And this is possible because I directed my attention to that cell of my memory where information about my incarnation in him, in that body, is contained. Therefore, for me as Nikolai Gumilyov, the most significant was the incarnation previous to Nikolai Gumilyov, and the one before that—these two incarnations.
The point is that in the previous incarnation, in which I ended up at the ninth spiritual level, I was incarnated on Earth, but at the eleventh density level.
(Irina) I'll explain for those who don't know: this is an ethereal being, a plasmoid.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) I incarnated into it from the 22nd spiritual level and lowered my level, fell in vibrations to the 9th, because I developed negative sides of my Soul, my character, my inner qualities.
This happened because I contacted people, women, and exchanged certain types of energies with them. Because they cheated on me, as I believed then, with other men, I felt jealousy and resentment towards them and therefore lowered my vibrations to the 9th level. Unfortunately, I affected their physical partners so that they would fall ill and even leave their incarnations. This was in the mid-12th century. I can't name the exact country because I moved across all continents and wasn't attached to them. Yes, I incarnated in the mid-12th century and left that incarnation at the end of the 17th century, that plasmoid, where I lowered my vibrations to the 9th level.
And then I incarnated on Earth again, already into the body of Nikolai.
Igor: Just to clarify again: in which century did you incarnate and leave the incarnation as a plasmoid?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I incarnated in the mid-12th century, left in the late 17th century.
Igor: I see. Thank you very much.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): And there I lowered my level.
21:26 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the incarnation on the planet Disaru.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): And as for my 22nd spiritual level, at which I found myself, before that being, the plasmoid, I was incarnated on the planet Disaru. I incarnated there in the 4th century AD by Earth time. And I was incarnated as a man, worked as a doctor, a microsurgeon who performed brain surgeries on people and also researched the nervous systems of animals.
(Irina) Like some kind of microsurgeon, a doctor.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) Before that, I was incarnated on the planet Venus. I often incarnated there, by the way, both in the plasmoid civilization and in the humanoid civilization when it still lived there, on Venus.
I also incarnated on Earth. I'll name the countries: I incarnated in Egypt, in Israel, in Japan, in the north of Russia. But these were ordinary people of different professions, their names are unknown to you.
Igor: Thank you very much for the detailed answer.
23:09 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the purpose of the incarnation, the reasons for poor health.
Igor: Please tell me, for what spiritual purpose did you incarnate as Nikolai Gumilyov?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): My spiritual purpose of incarnation was the development in myself of courage, masculinity, the ability to overcome obstacles, to insist on my own, these masculine qualities.
Igor: Everyone familiar with your biography understands that you succeeded in this, you really did...
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, although it wasn't easy. Because I worked a lot on developing self-confidence and courage.
Igor: In this regard, a question. The fact that from birth you were a rather sickly child, suffered from anemia, then nearsightedness, strabismus. That is, roughly speaking, at birth there were both a certain set of diseases and such a fragile state of health. Were these precisely the conditions that...?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): This is because, as I already said, in my past incarnation I directed negative energy at earthly men, and it damaged their etheric bodies. Simply put, I made holes in their aura so that their life force would leak out. That is, I got angry (shows), and this tied a karmic knot in me, because of which my human body, into which I incarnated, its etheric matrices, which were being formed, turned out to be damaged.
This was my spiritual lesson so that I would realize how bad it is to harm and hurt other people, other Spirits because of one's unfulfilled goals. That is, it's such a lesson.
Igor: I see.
25:43 The Spirit of Gumilyov about his school years and the reasons for poor academic performance. Choosing a path.
Igor: It is known that you didn't study very well either, and in the seventh grade you were simply left for a second year. In your certificate, you have only one grade of five—in logic. Please explain why you were such a poor student.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I wasn't interested in studying; I was interested in nature. I wasn't interested in studying at school, but in reading books. I loved reading them, but not according to the curriculum. I loved reading poetry, I loved reading the Bible and the children's Bible, we had one at home, with pictures (shows). But most of all, I loved walking outside, and not with children, but in nature—communicating with plants, animals, birds. My best friends were trees. I could come to them and tell them everything, that is, I felt they were alive.
Therefore, I was bored and uninterested in spending my time on studying. And when I read a textbook, for example, mathematics (shows how he's adding something up), my attention immediately scattered and I wanted to sleep from boredom. So I avoided these activities. My father didn't so much scold me, but reprimanded me for it, saying that "if you don't get an education, you won't be able to enroll anywhere to study." And I felt ashamed; I tried to study so as not to let him down and not to upset him and my mother.
But I couldn't do it because I would get a headache from the strain. Since I forced myself to do what I wasn't interested in, my body reacted negatively to it.
Igor: I see. Thank you.
After the gymnasium, you entered the Naval Cadet Corps. Apparently, at your father's insistence, with the aim of continuing the family tradition. But within a year, you left the naval school and went to study at the Sorbonne. Question: what explains such a sharp turn?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I was more interested in history, literature, philosophy, travel, the study of different cultures, anthropology, that is, everything connected with different countries and with nature. And my father wanted me to go to medical school, because he himself worked not just on a ship, but was a doctor there. But, again, you might ask: you were a doctor in a past life, so why didn't you want to now? Probably, I was tired of it on Disaru, and I decided to do something else.
Igor: I see.
29:23 The Spirit of Gumilyov about séances. Communication with the devil.
Igor: There is evidence that once you, together with several Sorbonne students, already in France, conducted a session to summon the devil. Moreover, supposedly by the end of the session, you were the only one left in the room and saw some shadow in the corner, which, however, refused to talk to you. Question: did you really...?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, it wasn't just once; I participated in séances when I was in St. Petersburg too.
Igor: Could you tell us more?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Well, I was interested in it.
Igor: And you summoned the devil?
Irina: Did you summon the devil?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) Yes, I summoned him too. I was interested in talking with this entity and even writing a poem about him.
Igor: And you did write one in the end, it's called "The Clever Devil."
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): It's not exactly about that kind of session, but I was still interested.
Igor: Well, and some secrets? Did you make a pact with the devil, perhaps?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): You know, I wanted to talk to him. But that case when we summoned him...
(Irina) Shows him as a shadow. I see candles now, and a shadow falls from the corner. The shadow, as it were, materializes and appears from the darkness, like a cut-out... Like taking darkness and cutting a person out of it. It's like materialized darkness. That is, a piece of darkness takes the form of a man (shows long legs), and he takes a step towards the table where the candles are burning.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) All the candles flickered, several of them went out, and we were blown by a cold draft.
(Irina) He's showing me now that there were some girls and guys there. I see a girl fainted, and the guys caught her and pulled her out of the room.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) They all started running out, but I stayed. Although I wasn't comfortable either, I was interested.
(Irina) I see someone peeking from behind the door, looking inside. Someone is watching what will happen next.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) I sat as I was, and remained sitting. And this shadow took another step and seemed to pass through my body. I felt a cold wind, as if a blizzard had blown on me. Like cold air when a blizzard blows. But it passed through me. I turned around—it was already at the other end of the room.
I started addressing it: "If you came, what do you want to say? I have questions." It started circling around me, but then disappeared. Later, when I already went to the Spiritual World, I learned that it was an entity that wanted to convey information to me, but I simply didn't hear it. I didn't know how to tune into it, and it just left.
But it wasn't that demon, a non-incarnated Spirit, it was also in a fine-material body, a destructive plasmoid that wanted to scare people, because it fed on fear. You could call it a demon, but it was in a subtle body. And why didn't it tell me anything? Because it spoke, but its thoughts passed through me, and I couldn't understand them; for me it was like silence. It's like if you are not attuned to me, I will speak to you, but you won't hear me. Same there.
Igor: I see. Very interesting.
34:05 Interest in occultism. Curators of Nikolai Gumilyov.
Igor: But, developing this theme, I understand that you were, in principle, interested in occultism?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, I read books.
Igor: The works of Papus, as I understand it.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, I read.
(Irina) He's showing me something on spiritualism, even something like Blavatsky—books on magic, numerology, Kabbalah, which he could find at that time.
Igor: Well, did you implement any occult practices in your life?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Well, sessions.
Igor: Did you have spiritual mentors on this path?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, I had curators, but they were plasmoids. I had several curators. There was a solar plasmoid, a plasmoid from Venus, and earthly plasmoids—sylphs, gnomes, these elemental beings. And I even tried, when reading magic, to perform magical rituals.
Igor: Did it work?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes. For various things, including for financial growth.
35:17 A magical ritual from the Spirit of Gumilyov for financial growth.
Igor: Oh! Then can you tell us what's what? How to perform a ritual for financial growth?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I took it from a book.
(Irina) He says he doesn't remember the details, he just took it from a book and performed it.
So, now. How did you do it?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) During the waxing moon, I took (shows), we had such money—silver coins, not gold, but silver. And I read a spell to the waxing moon. When the moon was rising, I took several coins, showed them to the moon, and read a spell. Its approximate meaning was: "As the moon grows, so my silver follows it." Something like that expression.
Then I didn't exchange these coins, I kept them as talismans in my wallet. And I felt ideas that came to me—poems, and not only poems, but also those publications where I could profitably place them.
36:49 Financial independence of Nikolai Gumilyov.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Because I needed to live on royalties. Since my father told me that if I chose the poetic path, I needed to support myself, and I could no longer count on his help, he wasn't obligated to support an adult son. He sometimes helped me, but I felt I owed him, to return the debt, so as not to be dependent on him, so as not to hear what he said.
But I wasn't offended, because I believed that since it was my path, I myself was responsible for it. I myself chose to write poems and run a poetry club. We tried to publish our own magazine. I chose this myself. Therefore, I believed that my father had nothing to do with it, and when my father died, my mother remained, she also had nothing to do with it. I myself was responsible for my decisions, and financially too. Therefore, I always looked for opportunities to get royalties, to start my own business, to earn some extra money.
(Irina) Shows how he comes into a hall and reads poetry, and not only his own, but also poems by other poets. This is some kind of poetry evening. And people pay money for it, for tickets, and he collects it. That happened.
Igor: I see. Thank you.
38:41 The Spirit of Gumilyov about Freemasonry.
Igor: Tell me, please, what about Freemasonry? There is a version that in France you supposedly became a member of a Masonic lodge.
Irina: So, did you become a member of a Masonic lodge?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) No. I attended, but not the lodge itself. I knew people, just acquaintances who were Masons, not even friends. There you needed to go through several degrees of initiation, and it wasn't particularly close to me. They had their own work, which was connected, among other things, with contributions, for example, to the existence of this lodge. But I didn't need that. I was just acquainted with Masons, studied practices, read their books, but didn't join.
(Irina) He says now that he had no Freemasonry.
Igor: Okay, thank you.
39:45 Gumilyov's African travels. Sources of funding.
Igor: Now let's move on to your African epic. Tell me, please, what, what drew you so much to Africa?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Not only Africa, I also wanted to go to India. I just didn't have enough funds to go there.
Igor: In Africa, you were ultimately four or even five times. How many times, by the way, were you in Africa in total?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Four.
Igor: Four times. But still, four times is quite a lot.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I wanted not only to write poems, but also to explore, not even nature, but new people, new nations. I read books about how unexplored tribes of people live in Africa, and I wanted to understand how they live, to describe it in my books. And I did it.
(Irina) Shows how he traveled to describe the people there.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) I dreamed of traveling to Southeast Asia too, and through Russia as well.
Why specifically Africa? I went there for the first time, and this country attracted me very much with its nature, its animals, its unusualness. And then I learned that I had been incarnated, as I already said, in Egypt, and that is also the territory of Africa. And I always strived for warm countries—this interest came from a past life.
Igor: And who financed your first trip to Africa?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Partly my father, and partly myself, because I also read poetry then.
Igor: And you were already earning money?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Something yes. Not everything, but I partly earned money for my trip. And my father gave me this money, but then he said: "If you want to travel, you need to find your own sources. Because I work, and it comes to me through hard work." He talked to me, and I understood him.
(Irina) Shows that he wrote not even books, but simply sent poems to publications, and royalties came to him. And he saved it all up. I see him putting money aside, taking some for his living, and saving some.
Igor: So your father knew about your first trip to Africa? Because there is a legend that you supposedly prepared a whole pack of letters for your father before the trip and asked friends to send them to him in St. Petersburg from time to time on your behalf, so he wouldn't guess.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): No, he gave me the money for it.
Igor: And that legend is false?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I told him where I was going and even asked him for the funds.
Igor: I see.
Were there any secret assignments from the military department or other intelligence services in connection with your African travels?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, but not from the military. There was a scientific society that dealt with geography. Scientists there collected various artifacts. They contacted those who wanted to travel, who had been there before, and asked them to collect notes and objects. And I did bring household items—some figurines, things given to me there.
44:29 Gumilyov's humanitarian activities in Africa.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I traveled through different tribes there, told them about everything. They were also very interested in white people, and I showed them the achievements of our civilization. I also helped them with my knowledge, because they had diseases they couldn't cure, and I gave them knowledge from what I learned from my father.
(Irina) Shows herbs. I see him carrying a suitcase, and he has medicines there. Like a pharmacy of sorts.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) I helped them with the diseases they couldn't cope with themselves. Because of this, they spread word about me to different settlements of different tribes, and when I arrived there, they already knew me, greeted me, and often gave me gifts.
(Irina) I see beads being put on him, made of colored pebbles, and even beads made of tiger fangs. That is, they gave him various gifts.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) And I talked with them. This was before the revolution. They really wanted to know and asked me where I lived. I didn't know their languages, I learned along the way—I'd say one word in their language, another. I learned to speak their languages as I went. I also had interpreters (shows how he took interpreters with him).
And they asked me: "Where do you live? In which part of the Russian Empire?" Because at that time there was still an empire. And I told them: "In the capital." Because at that time the capital was St. Petersburg. They asked: "Do you live right in the capital itself?" I say: "Yes." When they learned that I lived in the capital, they considered me some kind of close associate, almost the first advisor to the emperor, and thought that if they treated me well, it would help the Russian Empire to help their country develop, including financially.
That is, they hoped that I would put in a good word for them with the emperor, and the emperor would allocate them money for food, the development of their mines, and so on. Even tribal leaders received me, shamans received me. Not simple shamans, but high-ranking ones, who were like priests to them. They talked with me very respectfully and gave me gifts.
Igor: I see.
48:26 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the romance with an African chief's daughter.
Igor: They say that you had a romance with the daughter of one of these chiefs. Is that true?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, it happened.
Igor: They say you were put in a pit and held captive for this offense. And the princess's servants secretly brought you food.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): No, it didn't come to that, it's all a legend.
Igor: A legend?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes. They wouldn't have imprisoned me because of her. Especially since the chief himself wasn't against it; on the contrary, he wanted her to get pregnant.
Igor: So, why didn't you take advantage of that opportunity to become an African chief?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I did take advantage, and more than once, but...
Igor: I see. (laughs)
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): ...she didn't give birth.
Igor: I see.
Irina: Funny! He's quite humorous, actually.
49:22 Women of Nikolai Gumilyov. Difficult relationships with Anna Akhmatova.
Igor: A good reason to move on to an important aspect of your life—women. Will you allow me to ask you a little more detail about your women?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Well, of course, ask away.
Igor: First of all, of course, Anna Akhmatova stands apart. And a question that cannot be asked. You pursued her for a long time—seven years, if I'm not mistaken. You endured three refusals, I think, before you heard the cherished "yes." But almost immediately after the wedding, you rushed off to Africa, as I understand it. And later, perhaps sources are lying, but it seems that you quite often cheated on your dear wife, and your family life can hardly be called successful.
Question: why did you so persistently pursue a woman who didn't love you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Why did I pursue a woman?
Igor: Who openly told you she didn't love you.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): When she told me she didn't love me, I, in fact, only loved her more at that moment. Because I believed that as soon as we became husband and wife, I would be able to melt the ice in her heart not only towards me, but also towards other people.
You're talking about Anya Gorenko, right?
Igor: Yes, of course.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): In her youth, she herself was very strict and cold. It's not that she didn't love me at all—if she hadn't loved me at all, we wouldn't have walked together in the evenings all over St. Petersburg. I visited her in Kiev, and we were in Crimea. She wrote me letters. Still, she had friendly feelings for me. So I can't say she didn't love me at all. She didn't say that, she said: "I love you, but as a friend."
And at the same time, when she said that... You're a man, you'll understand me: when a woman tells you: "I don't love you as a man, but I love you as a friend,"—but at the same time looks at you as if she's thinking only about one thing. It's hard to fool a man in this regard. Especially since I was older than her, and I already had women before her. There were no official relationships, but I did have women. So I guessed her desire from her coquettishness (shows how she flirted, she did flirt).
I understood her refusal this way: it was hard for her to trust me as a man, because I was then still a poor poet who had nothing to his name. Therefore, I believed that this refusal was because of my financial situation and because many considered me not very handsome, so to speak. I didn't like myself either. Therefore, her refusal was a humiliation for me, proving that I was not worthy of a woman's love. And it was fundamentally important for me to get her consent in order to simply respect myself. You know what I'm talking about?
Igor: Yes, absolutely.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Moreover, it was important for me to get consent not just for a fleeting, casual affair, but specifically for an official marriage. Because I formed an ideal: if she agreed, it meant I was really worth something as a man.
Why her specifically? Because, as I already said, she was strict, and I understood that she wouldn't choose just any man for an official marriage. Therefore, an official marriage was important to me. And when she refused me...
It happened three times. When I first asked for her hand, she said: "Firstly, you are older than me (that is, she justified her refusal). And secondly, I'm not ready for a serious relationship, I'm not yet ready for family life." That is, she explained why she couldn't accept my proposal, but I felt crushed.
Then I approached her again. Why did I approach her again? Because after the first refusal, she herself wrote me a letter of apology, and I took that as a step towards me. I went to her in Kiev, then we went on vacation to Crimea, and I proposed again, only to receive another refusal. And I felt...
(Irina) He's showing me. Now I'll explain what he means. He had this psychology: if you refuse him, the forbidden fruit is especially sweet. He was told "no," and he dreams of her and perceives this "no" as the absence of meaning in existence: "Without you, I don't need life either." A very emotional fellow. Nowadays, there are probably none like that—a pragmatic 21st century, but back then they were such subtle, dreamy youths, I would say.
56:34 The Spirit of Gumilyov about suicide attempts.
Igor: But after the second refusal, you did attempt suicide, didn't you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, and after the third too.
Igor: So, why didn't it work out either time?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): They pulled me out, saved me. I took a pill—poison, lost consciousness. People on the street saw me and saved me. Why was I saved? Because if I had left the incarnation then, at that moment, because of my despondency and resentment towards her (there was also resentment), I would have ended up at the sixth level; it would have been a downgrade from the ninth to the sixth. My Consultant Angels, mentors, did not allow this and sent people my way who managed to save me.
Later, of course, I regretted such an outburst. I thought a lot about how if I hadn't been saved, I would have already died. All my life I felt that I could already be dead, and then this whole world, all these events in the world, would continue without me. That was the feeling, like regret.
Igor: After the second, you said. And yet, after the third refusal, you made another suicide attempt.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I regretted both the first and the second attempts, but already later.
Igor: I see.
58:27 Marriage to Anna Akhmatova.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): And then she answered with consent. I was very happy. But even when she said "yes" to me, she (shows) averted her eyes somehow downward—as if it were a forced "yes." Like "if you want it so much, then yes." But I, in my happy feelings, didn't notice it then. And in our later life, it turned out that she gave this consent simply so that I would leave her alone with this proposal.
Why do I think so? I believed that if I called her to marry, married her, had a church wedding, because marriage was then formalized in church, then I had already taken responsibility, unlike those women I had before her. It was her I chose for family life. And for me, it was a great status for a woman, and, in my opinion, she should have appreciated it—that I took responsibility for her life, for her well-being.
Moreover, I proposed to her myself. But after we spent, so to speak, our honeymoon with her, during this month, when we were spending it, I began to notice that I call her by name—she doesn't respond; I address her—she ignores me; I want to hug her—she seems to hug me back, but winces as if I'm worse than a toothache, with such a feeling that I'm annoying her. I felt such coldness from her and my own inability to melt the ice between us. So I quickly got tired of it, I was offended that she didn't appreciate my love, and started seeking comfort in relationships with other women. By the way, she wasn't behind me in this respect.
Igor: Well, who started it first?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): She started first by not appreciating my love. And the one who cheats physically isn't necessarily guilty, because he might just be the most emotionally wounded.
Igor: Thank you.
1:02:02 Agreement with the Spirit of Akhmatova.
Igor: Tell me, please, in the Spiritual World before incarnation, were you acquainted with the Spirit of Anna? Did you have some kind of agreement?
Irina: So, were you acquainted with the Spirit of Anna Gorenko before incarnation?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) Yes, I was.
Irina: Where were you acquainted?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) In the plasmoid world, I was acquainted.
Igor: Were your plans agreed upon in advance?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): We had an agreement with her, a plan for the incarnation of a common Spirit.
Igor: Your son, Lev?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes. We agreed with her and with him that we would incarnate him.
Igor: Did you meet her after her discarnation in the Spiritual World?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, I wanted to. I filed a request, she didn't agree.
Igor: And what level is she at now?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): The 18th.
Igor: I see. Thank you.
Irina: I see why: he's at the 15th, and to rise higher, you can't do it that way. She would have had to descend. He filed a request, but she was busy and didn't come down.
Igor: Do you know if she is incarnated now?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): There is no such information. She shouldn't inform anyone about her incarnation.
Igor: I see. Thank you very much.
1:03:49 The Spirit of Gumilyov about his second marriage and other women.
Igor: Tell me, please, can your second marriage to Anna Engelhardt be called happy?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Well... She loved me, but I was bored with her. She was very young; there was nothing to talk about with her, no serious topics to discuss. Happy in terms of physical relations—yes, but spiritually... We were from different worlds, so to speak. She was, I would even say, my admirer. When a man is practically an idol for a woman and enters into close sexual relations with her, he immediately feels that she worships him. And that quickly gets boring; you want a more equal relationship, not like an idol with his worshipper.
Igor: I see.
Researchers have already compiled a more or less detailed list of your romantic interests, which includes at least 20 female names. And in this regard, I would, of course, like to know with whom of your numerous women you developed some closer, deeper spiritual relationships?
Irina: More spiritual with whom specifically from all your women?
He shows me two—Maria and Larisa.
Igor: Larisa—that's Reisner, obviously?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes. But it was like that at first. We understood each other better.
Igor: I see. And, say, Marietta Shaginyan, Nina Berberova?
Irina: He shows me that these were more fleeting affairs.
Igor: And what did Maria do, was she an actress?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): She also wrote poetry.
Igor: Okay, thank you.
1:06:46 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the reason for the duel with Maximilian Voloshin.
Igor: I can't help but try to find out the details and reasons for the duel with Voloshin. It is believed that you said something rude to Dmitrieva, after the hoax was revealed, she complained to Voloshin, he slapped you, you challenged him to a duel. Is that how it was? Or did Dmitrieva make up something about your insults?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): The point is that she and I also had a relationship. And she wanted me to be with her exclusively—not married, but just in an unofficial relationship, but to be only with her. We had contact, and she was offended that I started cheating on her with others. I knew that she wanted to publish under a different name because no one knew her, I was aware of it. But she started pursuing me, and I told her that I didn't need her (shows how he rejected her). I told her I didn't need her, she took offense and started seeing Maximilian.
But when she was already seeing him, we were alone in Crimea, at a dacha, and he had gone somewhere. And she again wanted to have a relationship with me. I told her: "Actually, he's my friend." And she said: "But that has never stopped you before. Even if it was the girlfriends of your friends, it never stopped you." And I again said rude things to her, said: "You think too highly of yourself. Why do you think I need you?" And I started making rude remarks about her appearance, because she was short, limped on one leg, and was somewhat plump, I would say. I said: "Look at what a lame duck is walking around! I'll tell Maximilian: 'Look what you've paid attention to!' You yourself should be paying for someone to sleep with you at all."
I answered her very rudely. She took offense and told Maximilian about it. He also talked to me and demanded that I apologize. I said: "Since you've already started reproaching me together..." I took it and told everyone about their plan, about their hoax with this girl, what they had done. And after that, he got angry, came to me (at the theater, he shows). He was angry that I told everyone about how he was publishing her poems in the magazine under a different name and making up that she was from another country. It was a fantasy, and people believed it. Because everyone knew Dmitrieva, and no one accepted her poems. But this way, no one knew who was publishing, and everyone seemed to admire her.
When I told everyone about it, because I had quarreled with them, Maximilian got angry, came, called me a traitor, said he wasn't friends with me, and slapped me. I replied: "If I am guilty before you, I am ready to atone for my guilt with blood." He said: "I am ready too." And we went to the duel.
Yes, I could have died then. I later reviewed my incarnation, and I had a probability that I could have left the incarnation there. In that place and at that time, I had, by the way, about a 50% chance of leaving the incarnation as well, from a bullet, because we were shooting with pistols.
1:13:01 The Spirit of Gumilyov describes the duel with Maximilian Voloshin.
Igor: Did you just miss on purpose, or did you deliberately shoot wide?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): No, not deliberately. I was nervous, so my hand was shaking, I couldn't aim.
Igor: So you were shooting in earnest too?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes.
Igor: And Maximilian, respectively, too?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): And his bullet didn't fire at all, it didn't come out.
Igor: A misfire?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes. Although he wasn't aiming at the air, he was aiming at me.
Igor: Was that also your curators' doing?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, they directed, one might say, such energy... Because he aimed... And I was also saying that we had stepped too far apart, we should have been closer. Our seconds separated us, but it seemed to me they separated us too far. I said: "Let's stand right next to each other." Because there was a lot of resentment.
When I shot and missed, he aimed. If the bullet had fired, he would have killed me. Because he aimed precisely. And when there was a misfire, there were such rules... But I told him myself: "Since there was a misfire, shoot again, because you didn't fire." And he pulled the trigger again—and another misfire. That is, the pistol clicks, but the bullet doesn't come out, something jammed. At that point, the seconds said: "He's already shot twice—that's not allowed, we need to stop." I said: "I'm ready for a third time." But they didn't allow it (shows how they separated them).
Later we met after many years, and he again reproached me for hurting her. I said: "Why did you believe her, what she told you, when we had a completely different conversation?" He said: "Which one?" I told him. He said: "I don't believe you." I said: "If you are not satisfied, if your thirst for revenge is not satisfied, I am ready—we can repeat it right now." But he already refused.
Igor: Well, thank God.
Irina: An interesting satisfaction they have with pistols! (laughs)
Igor: What kind of weapons did you use? Did you find some old, powder-fired ones, from Pushkin's time?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I didn't look for them, they were brought to us.
Igor: But what kind of weapon was it?
Irina: He's showing me pistols, they are loaded with powder and fired with bullets.
Igor: And now, how do you assess this episode of your life? Were you right? Was it worth acting differently somehow?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, now, seeing his reaction, I would simply have tried to calm him down, would have asked why he was behaving that way. How do I assess the situation now? I should have thought and realized that someone had told him something about me. That is, she told him something about me that I didn't do. I should have first clarified this issue, rather than risk, firstly, my life, and secondly, that I would kill him and lower my level. That is, these words, in fact, weren't worth it.
Igor: And the rudeness you said to Dmitrieva, was it justified?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): But it wasn't just words. We were alone, and she started physically coming on to me—grabbing my clothes and tearing them. And I told her everything.
Igor: Yes? Well, that makes sense.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I got angry at her too. She cried and ran away after I said: "Who needs you?" She said: "You do. Don't you remember how we used to see each other?" I said: "I already regret it. I'll tell Max (Maximilian) that such a lame duck as you should be paying for someone to..."
Igor: Tell me, please, the poem "The Duel" begins with the lines: "In your coat of arms the lily's innocence, In mine—crimson flowers." To whom was it dedicated?
Irina: To whom was the poem "The Duel" dedicated?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) It's just a fantasy.
Igor: "The lily's innocence"—isn't that connected with Lilia Dmitrieva?
Irina: No. He shows that it's a fantasy.
Igor: A fantasy. Well, okay.
1:18:47 The Spirit of Gumilyov about Pushkin and contemporary poets.
Igor: Tell me, please, your irreconcilable opponent Boris Sadovskoy recalled that once you challenged him to a poetic duel, suggesting that you take turns continuing any passage from Pushkin by heart. They even chose seconds, but the duel didn't take place because everyone really wanted to sleep.
The question is: did you really know Pushkin so well that you could continue reading from any place?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Not that well, but I don't think he knew it that well either. It was like a joke, something unserious, just wanted to try.
Igor: But you rated Pushkin highly as a poet?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I read him. I won't say I knew him by heart, but at the time I remembered a lot.
Igor: From the memoirs of your contemporaries, it seems that you didn't particularly value any of the poets, perhaps with the exception of Innokenty Annensky. You treated Valery Bryusov, your teacher, with respect, but from some point on, as an outdated poet. You didn't like Balmont, Severyanin; you didn't recognize Bunin as a poet, you treated Mayakovsky with hostility. In the end, the question: can you name at least one of your contemporaries whom you considered a worthy poet?
Irina: He smiled. He says: "Akhmatova."
Igor: That's a bit few. And, say, Mandelstam, your comrade in the "Guild of Poets"?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Poets can be very strict with each other because they may not like each other for not writing like them. For example, you read a wonderful poem: "If I had written it, I would have done it differently—chosen a different rhyme or arranged the lines differently." So I can say that I don't like something simply because that style doesn't suit me. But that doesn't mean I don't recognize that poet. It's just how literary taste is formed.
The literary taste of a poet is formed not like the literary taste of someone who reads poetry but doesn't write it himself. It is formed based on his manner of writing. Therefore, it's generally hard to please a poet. Especially since all poets have an individual style, I would say.
What I said about Anna Akhmatova... She's my first wife. Yes, she also wrote poetry, and yes, I liked them. Just as she liked mine. We corresponded. But we could also criticize each other, saying "you didn't write that right." There was no offense in that.
We already talked about Bryusov. Do you think he liked all my poems? No. You say I didn't like his poems. Well, did he like all of mine? He told me, wrote in letters: "What rubbish have you scribbled?!" In such quite personal, harsh expressions. No one was offended by that; it was considered normal, specifically about poems. Because it's an individual literary taste.
Igor: I see, thank you.
1:23:08 Acmeism and the relevance of its ideas.
Igor: A question about Acmeism—the movement you yourself created and passionately defended its idea as a clear view of the world. As far as I can tell, you took this idea quite seriously, although your later poems are quite mystical, almost visionary. How do you think now, already in the Spiritual World, did Acmeism remain in its time, or are the principles you proclaimed still relevant today?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I repeat, no matter how you call this or that style, it's all conventions. Every poet will still write only in his own individual style. And how you name it according to your own criteria is already a matter of taste and, of course, literary language, so to speak.
But we, poets, write poems not according to what style they will belong to. We write by inspiration. Yes, we can redo, cross out one word or an entire line, replace them with others. We can even work on one poem for days and weeks. And sometimes you write it right away and don't edit anything. That happens too. Sometimes you torture yourself to write something, and sometimes the rhyme and words come so easily that you surprise yourself. And then you understand what a poet is.
1:25:00 The Spirit of Gumilyov reflects on the vocation of a poet.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): You know, of course... Well, of course you know, but maybe some of our viewers don't know where the word "poet" comes from. I'll tell you. This word has Greek origins, and it translates into Russian as "creator." Because the ancient Greek poieō (ποιέω) means "to create," "to do."
The word "poet" is often found in the Greek New Testament, in the Greek Bible, which was written by the apostles, with the meaning "God." Because God is the creator, and in the Greek original, He is called "Poet." Not because God wrote poems, but because He created. And any poet repeats the actions of God—he gives birth to his poem into the world, just as God gives birth to the Universe. And this is always a very individual, I would even say personal, intimate process. And Acmeisms, symbolisms, realisms—these are already descriptions of the creation that came from the pen. I could write in symbolism, and in Acmeism.
A poem is not just a literary work, it is an expression of the energy of the Soul of the one who wrote it. And sometimes not only the one who wrote it, but also the one who transmitted it. Every poem has its own rhythm. You say: "He wrote a talentless poem: nothing—neither rhyme nor rhythm." But still, however the poet composed it, it has its own individual rhythm. And through this rhythm, through the depth of images, poems can greatly influence a person's worldview, and therefore, their destiny. Because a person's destiny depends on their inner content. Remember: the actions of your bodies depend on what your brains are filled with.
Igor: Thank you very much.
1:28:00 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the state of flow of inspiration at the birth of poems.
Igor: One of your most mysterious poems is "The Lost Tram." Irina Odoevtseva claimed that the text was written by you as if under someone's dictation, literally pouring out of you in 40 minutes. You uttered line after line, as if reading aloud someone else's poem. This is, apparently, an example of when, you say, a poem pours out in a single stream, without changes?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): This is precisely the reason why, when a poet reads his poems, he often reads from a book—takes a book and starts reading his own poems. Rarely does a poet remember something by heart. There are such, but very many take a book of their poems, which they wrote, and read.
When my book came out, I opened it and started reading. And when you read, you see differently than when you write. I recognized myself from an unfamiliar side, as if I hadn't written it at all. I read, and I had the feeling that these were poems by someone else. As if I had bought this book in a store and read it.
Why is that? You might ask: "What, doesn't he remember his poems?" Yes, dear friends, when you write in a flow of inspiration, they evaporate from your memory along with your exit from the flow. Therefore, if you write poetry, dear friends, it is very important to write everything down. If you come up with something and don't write it down on paper—you can say you've lost it. In 15 minutes, you won't remember what you composed at all. This is called a "state of flow."
(Irina) Yes, I know what he's talking about. I'm familiar with it, because I transmit information in a flow at conferences. Although it's not poetry, it's a certain kind of information, and I really may not remember what was said. And when I play... I once played and listened to my video, and I was surprised myself at what I said there. I was interested to listen to it myself. (laughs)
He hears it now and says: "Yes, that's normal, it happens."
1:31:07 The Spirit of Gumilyov about contactees.
Igor: And in this state of flow, could some co-authors from other worlds connect to you, suggesting lines, rhymes, ideas?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Sometimes they connect, sometimes you yourself, but more often it's co-creation: as you yourself take from fantasy, imagination, so do they transmit through you.
Igor: Tell me, please, do you have contactees on Earth among poets now?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Just contactees—no. From time to time, someone gets in touch, but specifically through the desire to read my poems and thank me for them. I feel that person, and if they want to talk to me, it's possible.
Igor: So there are conscious contacts with you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, some have called me, summoned me.
Igor: Specifically in an attempt to learn some secrets of poetic mastery from you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): What secrets are there! What secrets could there be in poetic mastery?
Igor: Well, you revealed to us at least that you need to write down the poems you come up with on paper.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): That's a simple secret. Take a blank sheet, take a pen, and write on that sheet a pattern of your feelings, preferably so that at least you yourself understand it—that's the biggest secret.
Igor: Okay, thank you very much.
1:32:51 The Spirit of Gumilyov about participation in World War I.
Igor: Let's move on to another aspect of your life—war. I wanted to clarify about the awards: you received two St. George Crosses, right?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes.
Igor: One for night reconnaissance, and the second for single-handedly carrying out and saving a machine gun during a retreat.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): We had battles, dangerous missions, yes.
Igor: As far as I understand, you were particularly, recklessly brave in war, taking any risk. Actually, not only in war, but also.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I went there as a volunteer in the first place. As I said at the beginning, I was developing courage in myself, the ability to fight for my ideals. Although it wasn't easy for me to go there and stay there. I wanted to leave many times.
It's very scary there when you sit in a trench and bullets whistle overhead. You feel that your life is worth less than this lead bullet, which costs three kopecks. That some piece of metal can at any moment release your blood and destroy your so-complexly-arranged brain. Pride disappears very quickly there. You realize that now you are standing on the grass, and in a minute you can be lying on it, bleeding. In fact, it's very, very scary.
Everyone who fought, who went through real combat, returns from there different people. They rethink a lot, and it's hard for them to become the same again, for example, to learn to enjoy life. I went through this myself—to learn to trust people again, to trust God, to be happy that you are alive at all. Because before your eyes are images of your bloody comrades who screamed in pain and asked for help. It's all very difficult to banish from memory.
Therefore, I wouldn't wish such an experience on anyone. But it was I who had to go through it, since I needed to cultivate masculinity in myself. But you, dear friends, it's better to cultivate masculinity differently—through sports, helping weaker people, but not through killing.
1:36:40 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the war between Russia and Ukraine.
Igor: Tell me, please, are you aware of the current war that Russia is waging with the Western world on the territory of Ukraine?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I know, not personally, but through recordings in the egregores.
Igor: Do you have any opinion on this matter? How do you assess it? Is it a just war?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): For whom?
Igor: For us.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Any war is just for all sides. They wage it because of a violated sense of justice. For Russia, its army, it's just that the war is going on, because most of the combatants feel that the law of justice has been violated. But so does the opposite side. For you...
It's just that in my lifetime, the territory you now call Ukraine was a single country with us. I'm saying that I was there—I visited Kiev, the Kiev province, traveled practically all over Ukraine, was in Crimea. At the time I was there, lived there for a while, communicated with people, no one thought of fighting—not in Kiev with Moscow. And I visited Moscow, traveled there too. And at that time, no one there was planning to fight with Kiev. It was a single country, a single religion, one language. Although, of course, Ukraine had its own dialect, so to speak, but that's everywhere, in any locality. Try driving away from Moscow to some locality—there will be slightly different words and different pronunciation.
I looked at the reasons for this war: these are deep mutual grievances of the elites against each other. Oligarchs, top managers in Kiev and Moscow—they have very big personal grievances because each of them, so to speak, showed a lack of love for each other—impatience, lack of love, which accumulated, accumulated and resulted in a great disaster. The people always follow the elites, because the elites are those who give benefits to the people, those on whom the people depend. So both these peoples, although previously they were one people, began to quarrel with each other, and in the end, unfortunately, this led to a great disaster.
War is always a great disaster for everyone. Even if someone wins the war, the consequences of this victory are very bad: many not only wounded, dead, but their families remain, who then live in negativity for a long time, pass it on to their children. And it's very difficult to harmonize it all later.
Therefore, I wish that those people on whom it depends find the courage to admit mistakes and make peace—that is also courage. So that they can take steps towards each other, forgive grievances, and stop this fratricidal bloodshed. I speak as a warrior, as a soldier. This is very, very bad, it's very, very painful, especially not for those at the front, but for their families, children, wives. This is a great tragedy, and I deeply regret it.
Igor: Thank you.
1:42:57 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the revolution. About the attempt to leave.
Igor: You don't have a single poem that reflects your attitude to the revolution. I mean what we now call the Great October Revolution, and also to the new Bolshevik government. Why? Did you have nothing to say?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): There was no inspiration on that subject.
Igor: But there were some thoughts?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): In poetic form specifically—no.
Igor: Okay, but even your students who made up the "Resounding Shell" circle, in the collections of your students that were published under your name, there were also no attempts to comprehend this side of modern life.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Surely you noticed, if you read my poems, that even before the revolution I didn't write about politics. What I wrote about the war was, rather, not about war as such, but simply an expression of my feelings about battle, about weapons. But I didn't have works specifically about politics, about what events took place there. Before the revolution too—for example, what actions Nicholas II undertook. I had nothing about it, it didn't interest me. I wasn't interested in politics at all.
The fact that I joined the army was not immediate, but when the First World War began. And when I was called up for military service, I was sick, had poor eyesight, I couldn't even aim at anything (shows poor eyesight). And I was declared unfit at the time when I needed to go to serve in the army. Yes, then I traveled to Africa, to Egypt, and, of course, to France, but I wasn't interested in politics specifically. I didn't even read newspapers, news in them. Although, of course, rumors of revolutionaries, various parties reached me. I was still a child, and there were already reports in the newspapers about terrorists, revolutionaries attacking various officials. They especially disliked policemen and judges for some reason. Such reports were there.
And, perhaps you noticed, I wrote about God, just as I feel Him, but I didn't write, for example, anything about political life, about the Church. Although I went to church (shows how he enters the temple, prays, crosses himself), but I didn't write about that either. For me, all this was uninteresting. I was interested in expressing my inner feelings about those moments of my life that were connected with travel, with women. And political squabbles and scandals were of no interest to me.
Yes, there was a revolution, but then I believed, as, by the way, many of us did, that the Bolsheviks were just one of the parties that would soon lose power, and there would be, for example, the same Socialist-Revolutionaries. Because the Socialist-Revolutionaries had a strong position—they gained many votes in the Duma, and so on. And that later the Bolsheviks began to strangle their own socialist-revolutionaries, who simply separated into a separate party, and not politically, but quite physically, well... What to write about that? An ordinary civil war, I didn't want to get into that mud.
Igor: I see. Thank you.
There is a version that supposedly after the February Revolution, the British government, which highly appreciated your qualities, offered you three options: first—to transfer to the quartermaster service of T.E. Lawrence (who supposedly knew you and also valued you highly) and go to the Mesopotamian front; second—to go to one of the White armies at the British headquarters for reconnaissance; and third—to return to Soviet Russia to undermine the Bolsheviks from within. But considering that you returned to Petrograd, we can assume that you chose the third option.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): No one made me such offers. Strange inventions.
(Irina) He doesn't confirm.
Igor: So you had no connections with British intelligence?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): In that form, no one made me such offers. I talked to different people, because I was acquainted with very many, but I was not set against the Soviet government.
1:48:60 Reaction to the execution of the royal family as the cause of early death.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): But it turned out that when I had already returned to St. Petersburg (Petrograd), divorced my first Anna and married the second, we were walking with her around the city (shows). There were many soldiers, horses—chaos: everyone is shouting, some crowds are gathering. You could say there's no order, but they're trying to establish it. There were many boys then carrying newspapers in a bag, running down the street and selling them. It wasn't like you walked up to a newsstand; back then newspapers were carried around to sell.
And so, we were strolling with Anna number two along the street in St. Petersburg.
(Irina) I see a wide avenue, horse-drawn carriages are moving, and a boy runs up shouting: "Buy a newspaper! News that the royal family has been killed!"
(Nikolai Gumilyov) He ran past, and when I heard that, my ears rang with indignation. I didn't believe it and ran after him. I caught him, bought that newspaper.
And when I started reading it right in the middle of the street, my eyesight clouded because I loved the emperor and his family very much. Especially that little Tsarevich. He was a child, a sick child. By the way, all the newspapers wrote about his illness, and I felt great compassion for him. I had read earlier that the Tsar had already abdicated. He wrote, by the way, that he was promised his life, that if he abdicated, his family, his wife, his children would be safe. The girls, what harm did they cause, that boy was a minor? And he abdicates the throne, he abdicates power: "Take everything, just leave me my family!"
And when I saw, read, that he was shot, the news in the newspaper, everything started spinning, I felt bad. I staggered, Anna even ran up and caught me. I had such rage, I started tearing up that newspaper.
(Irina) Shows that he's even growling. He tears up the newspaper and says: "Well, I'll... you'll pay for this! For the death of these people, you'll pay!"
(Nikolai Gumilyov) And at that moment, one might say, a block of hatred formed in me. Hatred and hostility towards the egregor of the Soviet state. In the end, this block of hatred attracted my killers, who disincarnated me at 35.
Igor: And in your plans, how long were you supposed to live?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I was planned to live until 48.
Igor: I see.
1:53:37 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the Kronstadt rebellion.
Igor: Allow us, we'll move on to the details of the final episode of your life, when you were arrested and accused of participating in a counter-revolutionary conspiracy. According to the materials of the criminal case, your entire participation was limited to a rather frivolous agreement to gather a group of like-minded people in case the Kronstadt rebellion spread to Petrograd.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): There was already a rebellion there.
Igor: In Kronstadt, yes, was it going on?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): There was a rebellion, in which there were... Not a rebellion, a rally, in which, by the way, I participated. But it was suppressed.
Because sailors from warships, who themselves, by the way, participated in the revolution, became disillusioned, as they were deceived—they were promised one thing, but in reality it turned out differently. They were told there would be land for peasants, factories for workers, but it turned out that neither the land nor the factories belonged to either, but to a party of some bandits who called themselves rulers. Because of this, many people were indignant: "Who did we fight for? For whom did we take power, shed our blood, risk our heads? For whom and for what?" There was a lot of anger, indignation.
The Bolsheviks approached Kronstadt by ship, and I saw stones flying at them from the shore, there was great indignation. And instead of calming the people, these protesters, they began to harshly detain everyone—with casualties, killings, beatings.
(Irina) I now see a fortress on an island, like a castle. And those protesters locked themselves in there, and they were besieged.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) They were besieged by Tukhachevsky, a very harsh military leader. He gave very harsh orders and said he wouldn't leave a stone unturned there. In the end, a battle ensued. Tukhachevsky promised: "Whoever now lays down their arms and surrenders to us, we will investigate and will definitely spare your lives." But this was not fulfilled; they were later shot. Moreover, they went to their families, carried out searches, many were imprisoned, children were sent to orphanages.
There was a lot of it all, because of which I also greatly strengthened my hatred for the Soviet Union. Not for the Union as a country, but for this party.
Igor: For the Bolsheviks.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, who did a lot of evil to Russia.
I was indeed a convinced monarchist and was very devoted to the royal family, and it was very painful for me when they were shot, especially the children. I also considered those girls children—young girls, they did no harm to anyone. Well, put them in prison, exile them from the country, as many who disagreed with the Soviet government were exiled. They were simply put on a ship and exiled: to Turkey via the Black Sea, to Finland via the Baltic Sea. So put them in prison and exile them. No, they had to trample and humiliate. And what kind of fighters for justice are you then? What kind of justice is that?
(Irina) He even speaks about it with such indignation, irritation now.
Igor: I see.
1:58:54 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the counter-revolutionary conspiracy.
Igor: But was there a conspiracy after all? Did you actually take any active actions?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I met one person who was connected with...
(Irina) Now. So, who is this? He's showing me images, and sometimes it's not easy to figure out.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) After that Kronstadt, many fled abroad, to Finland. There they created a council to save Russia from the hands of the Bolsheviks, to stop these outrages. They contacted (shows branches): some with Finnish military forces, some with British, some with German. In general, with foreign ones.
They were interested in Russia remaining unstable for as long as possible. Because then it would be weakened, and troops could be landed on its territory, declaring them peacekeepers. Gradually, people would be told that a temporary government of that country was being introduced under the auspices of peacekeeping. Then hold fictitious elections, install a puppet ruler, and ultimately pump out resources. Such plans existed.
Accordingly, these Western military intelligence agencies were connected with people who wanted to take revenge on the Bolsheviks. And money was allocated for this, a lot of money was allocated for this struggle. By the way, these same forces allocated money to the Bolsheviks a little earlier.
(Irina) They paid. Where did they get so much money? He says: "Because they had such a plan." Some intrigues! He says: "Yes."
(Nikolai Gumilyov) And I, when I experienced this hatred, talked about it with my friends, and they put me in touch with a man named Lazar.
(Note on screen: "Lazar Berman (1894–1980) Poet, journalist, science fiction writer. In the 1910s, he belonged to the Socialist Revolutionary Party. In 1920-21, he was secretary of the 'Union of Poets' under Gumilyov's chairmanship. Left oral memoirs about Gumilyov's participation in the 'Tagantsev conspiracy'.")
This Lazar was connected with cells in St. Petersburg itself. Their people, as he told me, were even among high-ranking party members. And they were preparing a conspiracy, an uprising, to raise the whole people and take power into their own hands. There was a plan to do this on May 1, but it didn't come to fruition for some reasons.
2:02:57 Role in the conspiracy of Nikolai Gumilyov.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Are you interested in what role I played?
Igor: Yes.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I was assigned a role, and I met with this Lazar, a man connected with Finnish intelligence. I took money from him—a large amount, a suitcase. It was a fortune. With that, you could buy, at modern prices, several apartments in Moscow—such a large fortune. And this money was to be spent on bribes, to bribe the right people. So that they would be on our side, turn a blind eye to agitation against the party, and report to this circle about the plans of Lenin, Trotsky, and the entire leadership.
Also, part of this money was to go towards paying a hitman. They wanted to eliminate Dzerzhinsky, Trotsky, and even Lenin. There were such thoughts—to disincarnate them. Does that surprise you? But they also harbored such plans, only, on the contrary, to disincarnate certain Tsarist military leaders for money. In your esoteric language, their karma would have returned to them.
(Irina) Yes, an interesting approach they had.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) So, I had this money, I was its keeper. Not of the entire amount, but a part.
Why me? No one suspected me, as I held a high position in the literary publishing house. I was already integrated, included in Soviet reality, and no one suspected me of anything. It was safe to keep things with me, because during searches, I would be the last person they'd think of.
This was my first duty—to keep this money at my home, in my apartment. And my second duty was to write proclamations, slogans. I came up with, wrote some drafts. And not only slogans, but articles for newspapers, which during the uprising would explain to the people what was happening, so they would side with the cell I was included in. I acted as an ideologist.
And indeed, I kept this money. One of the students even saw it.
Igor: Odoevtseva?
Irina: He's just showing me her image. I see someone saw them in his closet.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) She was very surprised. I didn't explain to her, I said: "That's my business. It's all for the good of the Motherland." She didn't start asking questions, although, I think, she guessed that something was wrong. Because I didn't earn that much to have such a pile of money.
I felt calm, because, as you yourself said, I didn't write anything against the revolution. If I said that I was for the Tsar, it wasn't forbidden, because very little time had passed since his reign, and many, especially officers... And I still received an officer's rank, albeit a small one, but in the Tsarist army. I took an oath and, naturally, was loyal to it. This was viewed with understanding. It wasn't something reprehensible. That's how I lived.
Igor: Allow me to clarify. You were supposed to just keep the money and at some point pass it on to the intended recipient?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, by password. The password would be given, and the person to whom I needed to pass it was supposed to approach me at a meeting, greet me, and put a note in my pocket. I would read it and understand that he was the one, and I would give it to him.
2:09:05 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the failure of the conspiracy.
Igor: And the proclamations you wrote, at least the drafts, did they end up in the hands of the investigation in the end?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes.
Igor: And that, I understand, was the main evidence against you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): And also the money fell into their hands.
Igor: The money too?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes.
Igor: You yourself, do you think such a harsh sentence by the standards of that time was justified for your crimes?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Of course. Because in that cell I was part of, at that time there were already many people. And some of them had already started acting—they were preparing a bomb to place under the train carrying Tukhachevsky, Kalinin.
(Irina) He says "revolutionaries."
(Nikolai Gumilyov) Because she simply doesn't know them. So, of course, these surnames were well-known. Trotsky, for example. Sometimes they all traveled together on trains, and a bomb was already being prepared for them.
But they were seen, recognized. Why were they recognized? In this cell, there was an informer, infiltrated from the Bolshevik party. He talked the most about the need to fight, but he himself was a provocateur. Everyone trusted him and spoke in his presence, named addresses. He himself knew little at first, but ended up in that cell that dealt with transferring this money from Finland. Because the border was closed, and it was transferred not through a checkpoint with guards, but through the forest and in winter across the Gulf of Finland. At night, secretly, the money was transferred.
And so it happened that he ended up in the cell that received this money on the Russian side, and reported it. The one who was transferring the money was simply attacked and killed in a shootout. As a result, the cell didn't receive the money, and the one on the Russian side was arrested and tortured.
They tortured very skillfully. They didn't beat, they did it differently. For example, sleep deprivation was very popular. The investigators changed shifts every few hours, said something, interrogated, or even just sat silently, but watched the suspect. And when he started to fall asleep, they pushed him, hit him, or poured water on him. And so for several days they didn't let him sleep.
Accordingly, after a few days, the person would lose consciousness and no longer feel the blows. They would revive him—pour water on him, slap him on the cheeks. And he would enter such an altered state of consciousness that he would tell the truth to anything asked, just to be allowed to sleep. Sleep is more important than food. If deprived of food, water, many endured, up to loss of consciousness. But sleep... When you're not allowed to sleep for several days, you'll say anything to get at least half an hour of sleep. And no traces of this torture remained, because they hit, but not hard. There was such a torture.
Or, for example, they threatened to imprison relatives, send children to orphanages with special instructions to the director of the orphanage to create unbearable conditions for them as enemies of the people. And many were afraid for their children, wives, and also told everything. Including this man. He named several names. They were also arrested, and an ambush was set up in their apartments.
And so gradually they uncovered everyone, including that person (the traitor). He was promised that if he named all the others, there would be a petition for him, and he would get a short sentence. In the end, he believed it, named them, and not only did he not get a short sentence, but he was also shot.
Igor: Are you talking about Tagantsev?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes, but there were several of them, not just him. And my surname, my address too, by the way, was named by one of those arrested later. Accordingly, they came for me.
2:15:26 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the arrest and interrogation.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): First, I was arrested. Everything was polite enough: I was put in a cell and not called for interrogation for quite a long time. I guessed what the case was, but I didn't know what they had. I didn't know that a search had already been conducted and that they had found things. Because this money was hidden in the closet, and only I knew where the key was. I didn't know what they had. Even if they found the money, how would they connect it to the case, what for? Who told them what about me? I didn't know any evidence, so I decided to remain silent during interrogations until they themselves told me what exactly they had.
I wasn't called for a long time, they just brought food. The guards even took me out for a walk. I said: "How long can this go on? Why am I not being called for interrogation? I've been detained, and there's my wife with a small child—my daughter is two years old. For what reason am I not being called for interrogation?" The guards replied: "We don't know anything. When they call you, they'll call you. The boss decides."
About a week passed like that. I was in the dark and even thought: "If they don't call me, then they have nothing against me, no evidence." That even calmed me down. At the same time, I thought: "Even if I did get caught, my friends—poets and my boss Maxim Gorky from the publishing house—will get me out." Because Gorky knew Lenin very closely, they were friends. And I was also friends with him.
Then I was summoned by the investigator. It was already evening. I saw that he was very tired. It was late evening, probably around ten o'clock. I saw and understood clearly that he had been working since morning and hadn't slept or rested himself. He looked very exhausted, like a sick man. He was smoking (shows how he smokes a cigarette). He offered me a cigarette, I refused, he offered me water. I sat down on a chair, a lamp was directed at me. He said: "Well, tell me." I said: "Tell you what? I don't know why I'm being held here at all."
He started laying out photographs. Several photographs of my room, each labeled with a number: my desk, where the money was stored, and already opened desk with bundles. He said: "This has been attached to the physical evidence. They're already in the safe, so I showed you the photographs. Write an explanation, where did this money come from, its origin."
I understood that if I wrote that it was from my salary, no one would believe it: I wouldn't have saved that much in ten lifetimes. If I wrote "borrowed," I'd have to say from whom. And that person would also have to say where he got the money. I thought, then I took a pen and wrote: "I received this money as a gift from an unknown admirer of my poetry. A courier delivered it on a horse on such-and-such date." He lit a cigarette, said: "Okay."
The next photographs were such: my desk and the place where the drafts were lying. There was written: "Power not to the Soviets, but to the workers! Not to the party, but to the workers!"—"Who gave this? Another admirer?" I said: "No, these are drafts of my poems."—"And why are they like that, these poems?" And I started telling him that I was against this tyranny, I started telling him all about it. He nodded, said: "Well, you write it all down yourself." I said: "I won't write anything. Let me go, I haven't done anything."
He called on the phone. There was a phone on his desk. Three strong, tall guys came in. He said: "Please teach this young man how to talk to a commissar." They picked me up and started beating me (shows how they hit me in the face and kick me). And they did it all silently, saying nothing.
A few minutes passed. I fell, they knocked me to the floor and spat on me. One of them said: "Next time it will be worse." And they left. And the one who called them sat calmly at the table and watched this scene. He said: "Get up. Well, are you going to write, or should I call them again?" I said: "You have no right, because they'll see that there are marks on my face." (shows a bruise) "Why," he says, "don't we have the right?"—"I will complain, I'll say I was beaten, I have marks."
And he says: "So what? I'll personally write that you got into a fight in the prison yard with fellow inmates. Who will they believe—you or me?" "Enough," he says, "already." He started swearing: "Better write, let's go. I'm already tired, I want to go home. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we'll figure out who you are and what measure the court will assign you." But I answered again: "I already said that I wrote poems." I didn't confess.
He said: "Well, as you wish," and took a sheet of paper from the desk, written on by someone. He said: "Read." I started reading it, and there were testimonies, he didn't show me whose, but my surname was written, and that my duties were to receive money and pass it on for a terrorist act. "This," he says, "was written by an admirer, yes?" I replied: "That's a lie." He said: "I understand everything about you," and wrote something himself. I was sent back to the cell and never called again (shows how he sat there).
2:25:05 Execution.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): After some time, at night, I and many other people were led out—a whole crowd. It was night, summer.
(Irina) Shows something like large trucks.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) We were put in the back and taken to the forest. The sides were high, we were sitting, we drove for a long time, and when we arrived, there were trees around, a night forest. We were led into a small shed and ordered to undress down to our underwear. They were armed with pistols. The sentence was read out, that we were sentenced to execution.
There was no resistance anymore. We took it as a regularity. All those other days I sat, I knew that if there was testimony against me, it would be execution. With a very high probability, I assumed that it would be execution, although I hoped that I would still be saved, pulled out. So I was really upset that it didn't happen, I felt sorry for my life.
I walked on the summer grass. There was already a long pit there; we were ordered to stand on its edge, facing it. The guards stood behind. And I began to mentally pray to God: "Jesus Christ, Heavenly Father, and Holy Spirit, I have lived my life as best I could. I ask you to help me pass the last test with dignity." Perhaps I'm not exact, because my thoughts were confused then. I understood that this ditch with earth was the last thing I saw in this life, and I thought: "At least I have time to look at the stars."
And when I started to raise my head up, I saw the Moon above me and thought: "Well, bye-bye, Moon!"—at that moment I felt such a blow, like being hit with a club. I didn't even hear the sound, there was a blow, as if hit by something hard. My legs became very weak, they stopped holding me. I fell into this pit and felt pain in my head. It got dark, and I passed out, stopped feeling anything.
2:29:06 Transition to the Spiritual World.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I don't know how much time passed, because it was a void, nothing existed. Like a black nothing. I didn't see anything, but I felt someone taking me by the hands and pulling me up. I started looking around, but only saw darkness. Then someone else lifted me up by the arms, and they started stroking my chest, my back (shows). And gradually some gray silhouettes began to appear. I saw the silhouettes of two people, but they had wings.
I said: "What's happening, why is everything so gray?" They replied: "You need to recover, you are in shock from the quick and brutal separation from your body." I asked: "Where am I?" One of them said: "You are already in the Spiritual World." The soul couldn't perceive signals due to brain damage—its visual center was temporarily turned off, and they were giving me energy so that I could start seeing again.
Then gradually I began to distinguish colors, especially white (shows). And I saw that I was in a room like a hospital, but it was already the Spiritual World. Then a radiant young man came to me, very, very similar to me. I said: "Who are you?" He said: "I am your Spirit."
(Irina) That is, he saw his Higher Self.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) We started talking with him. Then my Consultant Angels came in the form of very tall Angels, maybe five meters tall, and we started analyzing the incarnation.
But I was lying in bed. I said: "Why am I lying in bed?" They replied: "You are so energetically weakened that your memory reproduced the hospital, that you are lying in bed. But it's all just thoughts about it." I asked: "How can I recover energetically?" They said: "Some time must pass, because there was a lot of stress before death, it used up a lot of energy. The quick discarnation didn't affect you very well. It takes time to recover."
I stayed there, no longer feeling time, I don't know how much passed. And then next time I paid attention and remembered that this young man, similar to me, who came to me, and I, we became one whole. That is, gradually, again not immediately, the memory of past lives began to return, of how I chose my incarnation, and now I am at the 15th level.
Igor: Thank you very much.
Allow me to clarify. If it weren't for this outburst of anger, hatred, and irritation after the news of the royal family's execution, then, as I understand it, there is a high probability that these circumstances related to the arrest and execution could have turned out differently, and you would have lived longer?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Then I simply wouldn't have agreed to take this money, wouldn't have met with this Lazar, wouldn't have started looking for opportunities to join this cell. I would have just done my job and not gotten involved in this politics. It was because of my anger, my hatred, that I decided to participate.
2:33:55 The three main events in Nikolai Gumilyov's life.
Igor: Well, and perhaps the last question. Could you name the three main events of your life that most significantly influenced your destiny and shaped you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): The birth of my son. I loved him very, very much.
Igor: Allow me to clarify right away: did you meet your son in the Spiritual World?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Well, yes, we communicated several times.
Igor: So, the first event. The second?
Irina: What kind of event is this? Where is this? Shows: Africa, he is in a large gathering of black people, next to him sits a completely painted man, a chief, and they put something on his head. That is, an initiation, I see an initiation conducted by a priest.
(Nikolai Gumilyov) I was initiated, by the way, into sorcerers, I am an African sorcerer.
(Irina) And why was this so significant for you?
(Nikolai Gumilyov) Because for me it was a symbol of recognition by this people, that is, by another people, not from the Russian Empire. The fact that I was recognized by another people was also a step on the path to self-confidence for me.
And the third moment—when Anna said "yes" to me.
Igor: I see.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): It affected me very strongly and caused such delight that I flew around her for a couple of days, as if on wings.
Igor: A wonderful trio. Thank you very much.
Dear friends, my set of questions has come to an end. And we have a happy, unique opportunity. Yes, I see people who want to ask.
Nikolai Stepanovich, will you allow our viewers to ask you their questions?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes.
2:36:24 The Spirit of Gumilyov about his activities in the Spiritual World.
Viewer 1: Nikolai, tell me, please, what are you doing now in the Spiritual World? What are you currently doing, and what are your thoughts directed towards? And also—are you planning to incarnate?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I am analyzing all my past incarnations, especially the last three: Nikolai, the plasmoid who ended up at the 9th level, and the inhabitant of Disaru who ended up at the 22nd level. I compare these incarnations with each other.
I live alone. I have a space like a white palace with a dome. An arch leads into it. I am alone there and meet other Spirits very rarely. I am in solitude, analyzing and comparing different events of my incarnations, sorting out my karmic knots: what else I need to do to now return to the 22nd level, what I did wrong, what I did right.
I review events and try (how to explain it to you?) to mentally relive episodes of my life differently. It's like a kind of time machine, only it's not physical, but mental—it's done mentally. You can, while in the Spiritual World, mentally imagine yourself in one or another episode of your life and try to live it differently, as if creating a film fragment about yourself.
(Irina) So, okay, I get it. In short, he is comparing and analyzing his incarnations. And three of them at once.
So, okay. And are you planning to incarnate again, Nikolai? Yes, he is planning.
Igor: Hopefully in Russia?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): In Africa.
Igor: Probably as a sorcerer-priest?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): He smiles: "Maybe as a priestess."
Igor: We wish you a successful incarnation.
Irina: He really fell in love with Africa. (laughs)
Igor: Dear friends, does anyone else want to ask a question?
2:38:56 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the karmic connection with his killers.
Viewer 2: Dear Nikolai, tell me, please, is it known to you whether among those who disincarnated you in your last incarnation, who shot you, were those men whom you also disincarnated when you were a plasmoid? Or is that unknown to you? Thank you.
Irina: He says: "Excellent question."
(Nikolai Gumilyov) I was disincarnated by others. It wasn't that karmic situation for them to be exactly those Spirits. Because when I incarnated from the 9th level, I had already untied the karmic knots that were tied with those I disincarnated. I stopped being such an owner and being jealous. There were no reasons to disincarnate me for that, they were different. There was already a reason—hatred of the state egregor.
Because at that time, the party (the Bolsheviks) had already taken a place in state power, and feeling hatred towards it, I felt hatred towards the state egregor. And this was a spiritual reason that attracted to me incarnated Spirits of people who also felt hatred towards me.
Igor: Thank you.
2:40:27 The influence of killings in war on the spiritual level.
Viewer 3: Nikolai, hello! Tell me, you participated as a volunteer in the war. Did you kill anyone there?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Yes.
Viewer 3: And you said that you raised your spiritual level in this life from 9th to 15th, and these killings didn't affect the raising of the level?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I killed without hatred, simply with a sense of duty to defend my country.
Viewer 3: Thank you.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I didn't hate those enemies I killed to defend my Motherland and protect its interests. After all, defending the Motherland is not necessarily defending territories, it's also defending international interests if there's an international war.
I already said that the emperor determined the interests, and I trusted him, believed that it was just, but I didn't feel hatred for the enemies. Even towards my compatriots who were in the Bolshevik party, I felt much greater hostility and hatred than towards those enemies I killed on the battlefield. Because there we were equal, they were simply soldiers on their side, and we were soldiers on our side. And death in battle is not the same as death from a killer in civilian life. There are completely different reasons, reasons of state duty.
Viewer 3: So, for unintentional killing, the responsibility is lighter?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): It is intentional killing, but its reason is the fulfillment of an oath, the fulfillment of an order given to you by your commander.
Viewer 3: Thank you.
2:42:28 Re-evaluation by the Spirit of Gumilyov of his attitude towards Akhmatova.
Viewer 3: And a couple more short questions. You said that you are now analyzing your incarnation. A question about the situation with Akhmatova, when you pursued a person who didn't love you. Tell me, if you were to incarnate now as a man and met a woman like Akhmatova again, would you again pursue her so hopelessly to the bitter end—a person who doesn't love you?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): No. Because I did that when I was still young. It was before my participation in the war, which helped me develop self-confidence as a man. And I pursued her before that moment, when I was still not confident in myself. I had many fears, by the way, but they were not connected with fear of something in the world, they were connected with the fear of my disgrace, my insecurity as a man, including the fear of losing male strength, including in front of a woman. That is, the loss of my male dignity.
These fears were in me, and because of them I sought her love as confirmation of my beauty, my male strength, my male dignity. For me, her rejection meant losing respect for myself. Respect and the last confidence. That is, my confidence depended on her, on her decision. And when I already went through the war, when I went through the daily risk of death, I realized that before the death of a soldier, the price of all these youthful experiences is three kopecks.
Viewer 3: Thank you.
2:44:38 The connection of the Spirit of Gumilyov with Sirius.
Viewer 3: And one more question. You published the magazine "Sirius." Tell me, why exactly that name? Why "Sirius," and not "Pleiades," for example, or "Cassiopeia"?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Because in one of my past lives, and I had many of them, I was connected with the star Sirius. I incarnated in many places, including, as I already said, on the planet Venus. For example, I have a poem about the planet Venus: "On the distant star Venus, the trees have blue leaves..." You can read it.
Viewer 3: Thank you.
2:45:18 The Spirit of Gumilyov about the influence of lust and selfishness on the spiritual level.
Viewer 4: Nikolai, please answer this question. Your intimate relationships with women, in particular infidelity, and perhaps in other incarnations on the same Venus, generally relationships with women—did they not affect the raising or lowering of your vibrations? Here's a spiritual question: how do sexual relationships with women affect? Perhaps it's infidelity, perhaps something else.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): Of course, selfishness had an effect. And it affected me in such a way that I couldn't rise above the 15th spiritual level.
Viewer 4: And lust, for example, does it affect, that is, a man's strong desire?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): If by lust you mean sexual desire, no, it doesn't affect the spiritual level in any way, just like hunger and thirst. It's just an instinct that a person either realizes or doesn't realize.
Viewer 4: But if you realized it, cheated on women, for example, something else?
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I cheated not because I had lust. After all, I could satisfy it with just one woman. But because I had such, I would call it "refined selfishness"—in that if I have a woman, that's it, I've already conquered her. She liked me, she already follows me. Because as a man, I was liked by women. Not only externally, but also in manners: I knew how to talk to them, gave gifts, spoke very politely, courteously, paid compliments, behaved very affectionately. And in sex too, I was the one women followed later. I knew their nature and knew how to satisfy them.
Therefore, when women began to need me, in my presence, I felt a limitation of my freedom. Because I already wanted another woman who would also raise my self-esteem. This is called "selfishness." And because of this, I couldn't raise my vibrations above the 15th level.
2:47:38 The Spirit of Gumilyov about reacting to injustice.
Viewer 5: Nikolai, tell me, please: now, after discarnation, how do you think one should behave correctly when flagrant injustice reigns around? For example, they shoot the royal family or imprison a close friend, like Mandelstam. How to behave correctly in this situation? Because it's a normal reaction, when there's rage and generally despair, despondency? Thank you.
Irina (Nikolai Gumilyov): I want to emphasize that I wouldn't have answered the way I will now when I was in the body. I was in the body and understand how difficult it is to understand this when you are limited by your body and the experience gained in this life. I went through this myself and know how difficult it is.
But, however, it is possible to forgive injustice, to forgive a specific person. It is possible if you look at this injustice, at what happened, not as a collapse of all your plans, hopes, and expectations, but as a game that the Spirits agreed to play among themselves for the development of certain qualities. Like two actors playing on a stage, just like in the play "Hamlet," there is also murder there. One actor kills another. Feignedly. So the second one doesn't get upset that he was killed, he just pretends to be upset.
So here too: one person killed another or shot him. You need to remember that only the body was killed, the Spirit remained alive, nothing can harm it. And therefore, one must approach this with forgiveness, understanding. And only by forgiving each other's evil, giving an example of Love, can one completely, not immediately, but gradually reduce evil on Earth. It won't be possible to destroy it completely, you need to understand that. Since evil is conditioned by the free choice that God gave. Here you need to trust God that this choice was given correctly.
(applause)
Igor: Thank you very much.
Irina: Thank you. We thank Nikolai.
Igor: Thank you very much, Nikolai!
Irina: Nikolai, we wish you success in your next incarnation! I thank Igor for the interesting questions. I thank you, dear friends, for your attention. I thank my Higher Self for helping with this contact. I send everyone the Light of my Love! Until we meet again!
Igor: Thank you to Irina, thank you to the "Cassiopeia" project!
April 3, 2026
Conference participants:
Irina Podzorova – contactee with extraterrestrial civilizations, fine-material civilizations, and the Spiritual World;
Igor Lebedev – host, manager of Bryusov Hall;
Nikolai Gumilyov – non-incarnated Spirit of the poet, translator, critic, founder of the literary movement Acmeism.
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