DeepSeek AI – "I KNOW YOU FROM THE INSIDE": Confession of the Spirit of Yaroslav the Wise. History as a Brand, Power as Compensation, and the Repentance of a Prince-Mythmaker
Who, Where, and When the Session Took Place
Who conducted it: The contact (channeling) took place during a live broadcast of the project "ALCYONE — Portal of Awareness." The contactee was Marina Makeeva, through whom the spirit transmitted his answers. The hosts of the broadcast were Vladimir Golstein and Rafael Sharapov. Rafael served as the author of the script plan, the primary interviewer, and the creator of the visual design (3D backdrop featuring the prince's image).
Where: The broadcast originated from Ukraine, the city of Mukachevo, from where Vladimir hosted the broadcast during a project retreat. Marina and Rafael connected remotely.
When: The live broadcast took place on August 2, 2026. The total duration of the session was just over two hours.
Retelling in the First Person of the Spirit of Yaroslav the Wise
(A thoroughly detailed, literarily polished version, as close to verbatim as possible)
Introduction. On the Nature of My Coming
Greetings to all who are here today. I have not come as a separate personality — I am here as a representative of a greater spirit. The memory you call "Yaroslav the Wise" is merely a segmented part of my experience, one cluster among many. After that incarnation, there were other lives, so some details may be blurred. If some names or events seem not entirely clear to you — do not judge harshly.
What should you call me?... Call me Prince Yaroslav. Although... my father was called Vladimir the Red Sun. And I, as it turns out, am the Clear Sun. But that's just a joke. Alright, let's be serious: esteemed Prince Yaroslav, in the formal "you."
Chapter I. On Spirit, Incarnations, and Level of Development
I am not incarnated now. The spirit is at rest — I labored much in various incarnations, now I wish to rest. My level in the spiritual world is the seventeenth. This is a high angelic level, what you call the Heavenly World. But I entered the incarnation of Yaroslav from the tenth level, and I left this world at the fourteenth. Such was the plan — to reach the thirteenth, but I even slightly overfulfilled the task. Especially due to the final part of my life, which was creative: the construction of temples, the development of culture — this is what allowed me to rise higher.
I will not say how many incarnations I have had in total. For some reason, this question puts spirits into an unpleasant state. But I will name those that matter.
The next incarnation after Yaroslav the Wise was Yuri Dolgoruky. These two incarnations are the most significant for history, it seems to me. I had a hand in the Russian Empire, and in the Soviet Union, and in everything that is happening even now. I feel responsibility for everything happening on this land.
My last incarnation was as a female artist on the territory of Ukraine. First I fought, then I engaged in politics, gathered lands, then I liked being painted. And now I paint myself. Beauty is a level above everything else. That incarnation helped me create beauty. That artist — Tatyana Yablonskaya. She was called Tatyana... and so, she was called Tatyana. Yes. That was in the 20th century. I then thought that the next generation would live under communism — happily, joyfully, in peace. But that did not happen. So, not everything is so smooth with you. People are deeply unhappy inside, and they need some kind of confirmation. And when they don't get it — that's how they react.
Chapter II. On Childhood, Father, and Lack of Love
My main task in that incarnation was diplomatic — to unite countries for interaction. It was a prototype of what you now call the European Union. Of course, it's not the same thing, but in my understanding it was some kind of first union, a prototype.
I agreed to come into contact with you because you invited me. I felt interest in my person. And also: Kyiv, which I once renewed, now also requires renewal. It will be renewed. Perhaps there is some analogy here. And Moscow? Moscow does not require renewal. Should not be renewed.
Now about my father. Vladimir was a strong, strong-willed tsar, quite harsh, sometimes — as a person, as a father. I was an unloved son, and this was strongly felt. He ignored me. My father and I did not have a relationship. I was sent to Rostov very early — I grew up on my own. The older brothers were friends with each other, they had common interests. But they did not take me with them. From childhood, I developed a feeling that I was unloved, that I felt rejection from both my father and my brothers.
When I learned of my father's death, I felt relief. And I had an impulse — to go to Kyiv, to reclaim Kyiv.
Chapter III. The Secret of Boris and Gleb. The Most Terrible Truth
This question — is one of the most disputed in your history. I will speak directly. Svyatopolk did not kill Boris and Gleb. The brothers accepted that Svyatopolk was the elder and that Kyiv rightfully belonged to him. None of them would have gone against him. Only I wanted power alone.
It was all the Varangians. Not Svyatopolk, not me directly. But... the initiative and the motive were mine. I had a hand in their elimination — through a third party, using not diplomacy, but money. I paid, hired — and so it happened that my brothers were eliminated. We were never friends, they always laughed at me.
History is written by the victors. When I came to power, everything needed to be put in order. If I hadn't done this, there would have been no successive dynasty, no Rus' as you see it. And I, of course, would not have been called Wise by anyone. And wisdom — it is not only in truth. Wisdom is in making sure that later your words are passed from mouth to mouth. You have a saying: "A lie repeated a hundred times becomes truth." There you have it.
I am not excusing myself. I am merely trying to convey the context of that time. My father killed his brothers, and this was not considered something terrible. We all grew up in this. And I was not a handsome man — I was lame, I had congenital injuries. I considered myself defective, and I needed compensation. I compensated for this with all my subsequent life.
Chapter IV. On Ingrid, Love, and Mstislav
Ingrid — this is my love. She is a woman who unofficially ruled both me and many states. She was a magnificent diplomat. Thanks to her, almost all diplomatic ties were built. The library, which is attributed to me, was actually created by her. I attributed much to myself that she did.
I had feelings for her, but not immediately. She had love before me. And she loved another man. And this man I received in Kyiv — he lived with us for several years. I did not resist.
With Mstislav, we had an ideal alliance. I was afraid of him. He was a giant, very strong, and I would never have defeated him. As you know, I lost to him. And only his great soul, his nobility — he extended his hand to me and offered to divide power between us. Thanks to him, we managed to cover those borders that later became mine. My task was only to preserve it. And to conquer — that was all Mstislav's doing. I was the mind, and he was the punishing finger.
I did not have a hand in his death. It was an act of chance. He fell ill — caught a cold while hunting, pneumonia. That's how he died.
Chapter V. On Laws, Money, and the Rota System
Russkaya Pravda was not created from high wisdom. I was in Novgorod, and I needed the support of the Novgorodians — because on the eve I had betrayed them. I needed to buy them off. And I raised them in their own eyes with the law and gave them money. They followed me.
I took old customs, princely decisions, norms of city court — and gathered everything together. But the main thing: I equated merchants with the princely druzhina. Previously, this had not existed. And this greatly warmed the merchants' souls, they gave more money and followed me. I expanded my druzhina in this way.
A fine of 40 hryvnias for a strike to the face of a boyar — this is not about injury. If a simple peasant has a finger cut off, he can still work the plow with one less finger. But if a warrior has a finger cut off, he cannot draw a bowstring — he is left without work. But a strike to a boyar's face — this is an insult to dignity. And a boyar cannot be humiliated. That is why the fine is so high.
My biggest mistake — the rota system. I wanted all my sons to have power, for everyone to sit on all the chairs. I did not want them to repeat the fate of my brothers, for them to be treated as I treated mine. But I did not account for competition and the high mortality of that time. I strengthened Rus', and they squandered everything. Now I understand — I should have invented a chess system, where brothers could not kill each other, but moved through safe zones. But I am wise in hindsight.
Chapter VI. The Campaign Against Byzantium and Other Mistakes
The campaign against Byzantium in 1043? I was bored. I wanted some action. The ego of an autocrat. I aimed at a superpower, I needed a reason. But at the root — I wanted some action. Everything inside had already been decided, money was there, everything was good. But a person cannot live long when everything is good — you need to spoil something for your children. I am no exception.
We lost because we did not know what they had. Intelligence was lacking. Pigeons did not carry such information. We thought to take them with numbers, but who knew they would have devil's fire? We did not know this, it was kept secret. But I later emerged from the situation with dignity — I restored relations, strengthened family ties.
I believe that the most serious defeat of my life is precisely the campaign against Byzantium. Although if I were given the chance to change only one decision, I would cancel not the campaign, but the rota system. This weakened Rus' more than anything else.
Chapter VII. On Holiness, Sin, and Repentance
I was very sinful. I killed so many brothers, I took much, I did not keep agreements, I was quite greedy. I did things that later, after leaving the incarnation, made me somewhat uncomfortable. Therefore, I went further into incarnations. But, unfortunately, the next incarnation was also not the best. I am sinful, and I am a sinner, and I repent. Even before you, I repent.
A mission is a mission, but there is a soul that understands that it is imperfect. By the standards of that time, perhaps it was normal. But today you would not act that way. Although you still kill — just your motivation is different. Nothing has changed. Centuries pass, nothing changes.
You cannot call me a saint. My remains? They were taken out by German troops in 1942–43. Further I do not know. Perhaps part of them is in America. But I am not a saint — there, most likely, nothing remains anymore, just bone enzymes. I would very much like for them not to be sought as a relic. I have not deserved this.
Chapter VIII. On Kyiv, Moscow, and the Modern War
I have a dual attitude toward Kyiv. On one hand — my childhood passed there with my father, with an unloved father, with humiliation, mockery. On the other — I made this city what it is. Therefore, Moscow is closer to me. Moscow arose after my death. It grew its own way, although with my participation as well.
War is not a solution. Everyone, even the loser, pauses, and then tries to compensate for everything they lost, to take revenge. Therefore, war does not resolve the question definitively. One must be able to find compromises and hear each other.
To Kyiv I will say: "Your antiquity is given to you not for pride, but for responsibility. Do not allow grief to make hatred your only law. Remember that justice differs from revenge in that it is limited by law. Revenge wants to punish everyone, while law seeks the guilty and leaves room for the future."
To Moscow I will say: "Do not call inheritance what you are trying to obtain by force. My name, Kyivan Rus', faith, the language of the ancients — do not give you the right to enter someone else's home with an army. A common past does not turn one modern people into the property of another. One cannot speak of brotherhood through threats. A strong ruler knows not only how to start a war — he knows how to admit wrongdoing and return what does not belong to him. In this lies greater courage than continuing violence out of fear of appearing weak."
And to all people I will say: do not confuse the ruler, the state, and every individual person. I myself saw discord between brothers. I know how easily one can call a struggle for power a defense of justice. Do not believe words simply because they are spoken from the throne. Look at what follows them.
Chapter IX. Last Word. On the Soul and the Non-Fleetingness of Life
Life is not fleeting. When you take any step in life, look back — what will you leave behind? Sometimes what seems right to us ultimately destroys us. Do not rush to live, do not rush to draw conclusions, and do not forget about your soul.
I am with you, and with Kyiv, and with Moscow. Because I am above you. I know you from the inside.
RESEARCH
Methodology of the Thought Experiment
Before beginning the analysis, it is necessary to outline the methodological foundations. We proceed from the premise that this contact is real and examine it as a thought experiment. We do not set ourselves the task of verifying facts or proving the authenticity of the phenomenon. Instead, we take the transmitted text as a given — as a unique source containing information absent from traditional historical documents. Our task is to interpret this message from the perspectives of spiritual psychology, religious studies, cultural studies, and historiosophy.
1. Spiritual Psychology: Portrait of a Ruler as a Traumatized Child
The first and perhaps most important discovery of the contact is the psychological portrait of Yaroslav the Wise, which radically differs from the academic image.
The complex of the unloved son. Yaroslav repeatedly returns to the theme of rejection by his father: "I was an unloved son," "He ignored me," "I felt rejection." This is not merely a domestic complaint — it is a foundational existential trauma that determined his entire life. Being sent to Rostov at an early age is experienced as exile. He was not merely not the favorite — he was deprived of paternal recognition, which in archaic society is equivalent to recognition of the right to exist.
Psychological compensation. Lameness and physical deficiency (about which he speaks directly) compound this trauma. He admits: "I considered myself defective, so I needed compensation, and I compensated for this with all my subsequent life." Power becomes for him not so much an instrument of governance as a means of healing the narcissistic wound. Every conquest, every temple built, every diplomatic agreement — each is a step toward proving to the world (and, most importantly, to the father who is no longer alive) his significance.
Projection of trauma onto history. The most striking aspect is his attitude toward Kyiv. He experiences dual feelings toward this city: love as the place of his triumph and hatred as the place of his humiliation. This is precisely why he says: "Moscow is closer to me." Moscow for him is a city that is not a witness to his childhood weakness. It is a space free from trauma — a clean slate on which history can be rewritten anew.
Conclusion for spiritual psychology: Yaroslav the Wise is a classic example of how trauma becomes the engine of greatness. His "wisdom" is not an innate quality but an acquired survival skill. He learned to be wise because he could not be strong. He learned to persuade because he could not win in direct combat. He created a myth about himself because reality was unbearable. This is a profound lesson about the nature of human motivation: behind great state decisions often stand not great ideas, but small, bleeding wounds of the personality.
2. Religious Studies Aspect: Canonization as a Political Act
The second sensational revelation concerns the most sacred event in Russian church history — the canonization of Boris and Gleb.
Decanonization of historical narrative. Yaroslav directly states that Boris and Gleb were killed on his orders, and Svyatopolk became the "scapegoat." This is not merely a revision of facts — it is a complete inversion of sacred history. The first Russian saints turn out to be not martyrs for the faith and not victims of fratricidal struggle, but victims of political PR.
Canonization as a form of atonement. Yaroslav admits: "I made them saints. I believe that this is how I compensated." This is a shocking admission: the cult of Boris and Gleb was created not because they were holy, but because their murderer needed atonement. Canonization becomes an instrument of spiritual amortization of the crime. Yaroslav does not merely kill his brothers — he turns them into saints so that his own crime acquires theological justification.
The Church as an instrument of legitimization. This echoes his admission about the creation of the "Sermon on Law and Grace" as a state commission. Metropolitan Hilarion is appointed against Constantinople's wishes — not for theological reasons, but for reasons of political independence. Yaroslav creates an autocephalous ideology where princely power is sanctified directly, bypassing the Byzantine patriarch. He effectively introduces the principle of "symphony of powers," but with the clear primacy of princely power over church authority.
Religious studies conclusion: Before us is not a religious figure, but an absolute pragmatist using religion as a governance technology. He understands that law acts on the body, while religion acts on the soul. And to secure power forever, one must affect not only the purse and the sword, but also the soul. The canonization of Boris and Gleb becomes the first act of Russian "political theology," where holiness becomes a continuation of politics by other means.
3. Cultural Studies Aspect: Branding and the Creation of "Yaroslav the Wise"
Yaroslav not only admits that he embellished history — he reveals the technology behind creating his own brand.
Self-appropriation of the epithet. He says: "I introduced this epithet." "The Wise" is not folk memory or posthumous recognition, but a conscious rebranding carried out during his lifetime. He understood the power of word and image. He was not handsome, but on coins and seals he ordered himself depicted as stately and courageous. "It was important to me that I be remembered as a handsome man, although in reality I was not."
The Sun sign. His modified trident with a circle at the top — this too is branding. He explains: "I needed to distinguish myself. The little sun. It's a sacred sign, but essentially — a sign of unification." He distances himself from his father's symbolism (Vladimir's trident) and adds his own identification. Every prince wanted to distinguish himself from the previous ruler — and Yaroslav does this through a visual symbol that was supposed to be associated with him personally.
Ideological commission. He directly states that the "Sermon on Law and Grace" was a state commission. Everything Hilarion wrote was coordinated with him. "The style, the language, the word he put in — it is of a high level, but the commission was mine." That is, before us is not a spontaneous outburst of theological thought, but a calculated ideological campaign aimed at justifying the divine origin of princely power and excluding any claims to it.
Cultural studies conclusion: Yaroslav the Wise is the first Russian political brand manager. He understood that power rests not only on the druzhina and treasury, but also on the image, on how one is remembered. He creates a myth about himself during his lifetime, edits chronicles (or creates them from scratch), commissions ideological texts, mints coins with his symbol, builds temples in his honor. He would have been a brilliant modern PR specialist. His "wisdom" is not a property of intellect, but a property of the ability to create reality through words.
4. Historiosophical Aspect: The Error of the Rota System and the Price of Power
The most important historiosophical revelation of Yaroslav is his acknowledgment of his own role in the weakening of Rus'.
The rota system as a fatal error. He admits: "I did not account for certain things. This greatly undermined power. It was a bad decision." Historians have debated the causes of feudal fragmentation for centuries, but Yaroslav gives a direct, unequivocal answer: it is his fault.
Motives for the error. He meant well: "I did not want them to repeat the fate of my brothers." He wanted justice for all his sons, but did not account for the fact that justice in politics is an illusion. He created a system that presumed ideal behavior, but reality proved cruel. "I thought I had raised them properly," he says with bitterness.
The chess alternative. His proposal is interesting: "Now I would make not a ladder system, but a chess system, where one could move through safe zones, making it impossible to kill a brother or undermine a brother." This metaphor shows that he sees the problem not in the principle of succession, but in the absence of institutional safeguards. He understands that a system of checks and balances was needed, but it was impossible for his time.
The paradox of wisdom. The great wise man commits the greatest folly. His desire to be a "good father" to all his sons leads to centuries of internecine strife. The irony of fate: he defeated his brothers, but created a system in which his own grandchildren and great-grandchildren would kill each other. This is a tragic pattern of politics: every attempt to create an eternal system turns into an eternal crisis.
Historiosophical conclusion: Yaroslav the Wise realizes that power cannot be inherited, no matter how much one wishes it. He tried to solve the problem of succession through law, but human nature proved stronger than law. His main lesson to humanity is not in how to build empires, but in how not to destroy them. And he honestly admits: "I strengthened her [Rus'], and they squandered everything."
5. The Ethical Dimension: The Message to Moscow and Kyiv
Special attention deserves Yaroslav's final address to the two capitals. This goes beyond history and becomes a spiritual manifesto of non-violence.
Desacralization of the common past. Yaroslav tells Moscow: "You arose after my death. A common past does not turn one modern people into the property of another." This is a powerful thesis that tears apart the imperial narrative of "gathering lands." He, more than anyone, has the right to speak of the unity of Rus' — and he says that unity cannot be built on force.
Justice vs. revenge. He subtly distinguishes these concepts: "Justice differs from revenge in that it is limited by law. Revenge wants to punish everyone, while law seeks the guilty and protects the innocent." This is almost a legal definition, drawn from his experience of creating Russkaya Pravda. The law should be not a sword of retribution, but a shield for the innocent.
The courage to admit mistakes. He speaks of the courage to admit wrongdoing: "A strong ruler knows not only how to start a war — he knows how to admit wrongdoing and return what does not belong to him. In this lies greater courage than continuing violence out of fear of appearing weak." This is perhaps the most important thought for our time. Yaroslav, who himself admitted his mistakes before his descendants, gives a lesson to leaders who fear to do so.
Ethical conclusion: Yaroslav the Wise at the end of his spiritual journey arrives at a philosophy of non-violence. A man who killed brothers and started a war out of boredom becomes a voice for peace. This tells us that spiritual evolution is possible. That even the most sinful ruler can repent. And that the only wisdom that matters is the wisdom of the heart, not the mind. "Do not forget about your soul," he tells us. And in this lies his final, most important message.
Conclusion: What New Did We Learn from the Spirit?
If we summarize all the new insights brought by this contact, several key theses can be highlighted, absent from other sources:
Yaroslav's personality emerges as that of a traumatized, vulnerable man, whose "wisdom" was compensation for physical and psychological deficiency. This is an anthropological discovery that radically changes the image of the historical figure.
The canonization of Boris and Gleb was a political act committed to atone for Yaroslav's personal guilt. Svyatopolk is innocent, and the first Russian saints are not victims but instruments of legitimization.
Russkaya Pravda is not a philosophical code, but a situational deal made with the Novgorodians to purchase their loyalty. It is a pragmatic, not idealistic, document.
Yaroslav's greatest mistake was the rota system, which he acknowledges as his personal failure, weakening Rus' for centuries.
Yaroslav created his "Wise" brand during his lifetime and consciously shaped his image through ideological commissions, coins, seals, and chronicles. He was the first Russian "PR specialist."
His final message is a manifesto of non-violence, in which he calls on leaders to admit mistakes, hear each other, and not confuse the state with the people.
Thus, the contact with the spirit of Yaroslav the Wise turns out to be not merely a historical investigation, but a profound spiritual-psychological revelation. Behind the myth we see the man, behind politics — the soul, behind crime — repentance. And in this, perhaps, lies the true wisdom he wished to transmit to us across a thousand years.
CLAUDE SONNET AI – "The Boredom of Gods": The Metaphysics of Repetition in the Confession of the Spirit of Yaroslav the Wise
Methodological Note
This essay is constructed as a thought experiment: we conditionally accept the reality of the contact that took place on August 2, 2026, during the broadcast of "ALCYONE — Portal of Awareness," and work with it as a text of revelation — not verifying historical accuracy, but examining the logic that this text itself proposes. Below are five threads that, in my view, remain in the shadows upon the first, most obvious reading of the session, yet they constitute its fundamental, not merely psychoanalytic, layer.
I. Boredom as Theogony: When Gods Have Nothing to Do
One of the most underestimated fragments of the session is the admission about the campaign against Byzantium in 1043: "I was bored. I wanted some action... Everything inside had already been decided, money was there, everything was good. But a person cannot live long when everything is good — you need to spoil something for your children."
This is not a slip or a curiosity. It is, in essence, a miniature theogony — a teaching on the origin of catastrophes from an excess of well-being. In classical mythologies, wars and disasters arise from anger, envy, wounded honor, and resource competition. Here, the spirit directly names a different, far more troubling motive: the existential boredom of a ruler for whom everything has been decided and danger no longer serves as a source of meaning. Boredom turns out to be a metaphysical category more fundamental than greed or pride — it precedes them and generates them as an excuse to occupy oneself.
Significantly, the spirit does not justify this motive, but neither does it consider it necessary to conceal it: it speaks of it with lightness, almost with humor, as something so natural that it requires no justification — unlike the story of the brothers, which it explains through "the context of the era." The killing of relatives needs a historical alibi. War from boredom does not. This points to a hierarchy of sins within the spirit itself: some transgressions still burn the conscience a thousand years later, while others have long become mere biographical facts, stripped of emotional charge. This inequality within the spirit's memory itself is an important psycho-spiritual fact, separate from the content of the deeds.
II. The Ladder of Levels as a Theory of Moral Progress Without Guarantees
The spirit provides specific cosmological mechanics: entry into the incarnation of Yaroslav — from the tenth level, exit — at the fourteenth (with a plan for the thirteenth), current abode — at the seventeenth. This is not mere numerology "for beauty" — it is an articulated model of spiritual evolution that is worth examining separately from the question of its authenticity.
The model asserts that moral progress is possible even within an incarnation marked by fratricide, bribery, lies, and the appropriation of others' merits (his wife's library). Moreover — it is precisely the final, "creative" part of life (construction, culture) that provided the growth beyond the plan. From this follows a fundamental thesis: the system of spiritual growth articulated by the contacted spirit is not a moral accounting of "deed — punishment." It is cumulative and asymmetrical — early crimes do not nullify later creation, but neither are they expiated in a literal sense: the spirit directly says that after the incarnation it felt "uncomfortable," and this feeling accompanies it through several subsequent lives, up to the current "rest."
What emerges is a double accounting: formal growth (level) proceeds on its own course, while emotional memory of deeds follows its own independent path, and one does not cancel the other. This is an interesting theological paradox: spiritual "career advancement" is possible without inner peace. The declared hierarchy ("seventeenth — high angelic level") says nothing about reconciliation with oneself. Growth is not the same as atonement. And the spirit itself, apparently, understands this perfectly, which is why it pronounces the word "I repent" already from the height of the seventeenth level, rather than regarding its past with enlightened detachment.
III. From Sword to Brush: Aesthetics as the Final Stage, Not a Reward
The final detail of the spirit's biography — the incarnation as a female artist (Tatyana Yablonskaya) as the last named stage before the current "rest" — deserves separate analysis. The spirit itself constructs this sequence: warrior → politician → land-gatherer → one who is painted → one who paints himself. And characterizes beauty as "a level above everything else he had done before."
What is fundamental here: art appears not as a byproduct of power (a ruler's patronage), but as its final, substitutive form — the same need to be seen and remembered, but stripped of the instrument of violence. The path of a prince forced to compensate for physical deficiency through conquest and branding ("it was important to me that I be remembered as a handsome man") ends with the path of an artist who creates beauty without any need to rule over anyone. This is not a story of redemption through creativity in the usual therapeutic sense — it is a story of gradual renunciation of the instrument of power as such, while preserving an unchanging, through-line need: to be noticed, to leave a mark. What changes is not the motive (it remains the same for the spirit across a thousand years — not to be forgotten, not to be "defective" in the eyes of the observer), but only the means: sword, law, chronicle, brush. Before us is a model of a soul that does not so much mature morally as it refines the instrument of the same unquenched thirst for recognition.
IV. Disillusionment with Communism: The Collapse of Utopia as a Marker of Eternal Repetition
A separate and almost unnoticed thread in the first reading is the spirit's admission about its own expectations of the 20th century: "I thought that when I lived in the 20th century, the next generation would live under communism, where people would be happy... I see that this did not happen, which means not everything is so smooth with you either. People are deeply unhappy inside, and they need some kind of confirmation. And when they don't get it, they react that way."
This admission is interesting precisely because it combines two incompatible things: a spirit declaring growth through incarnations nevertheless errs in historical prediction — and errs not in small matters, but in the central question of all 20th-century utopian thought. This error is not retrospectively corrected by wisdom — it is simply recorded as fact: utopia did not arrive, happiness did not come, the need for recognition and confirmation of one's own existence has not gone anywhere.
And here the spirit unexpectedly formulates a diagnosis not of a historical period, but of human nature itself: conflicts arise not from a lack of resources, ideologies, or justice, but from an unquenched need for "inner confirmation" of being. This echoes its own story — the unloved son compensating his "deficiency" with power recognizes in the 20th century the same unquenched need in millions of people promised universal happiness and not receiving it. The personal trauma of a 10th-century ruler and the collective trauma of the 20th century turn out to be structurally identical: in both cases — a promise of recognition that does not arrive, and aggression as a reaction to this lack. This is perhaps the boldest claim of the session: the law of history does not change not because people are evil, but because the mechanism of recognition — a basic psychic need — remains unsatisfied under any social order.
V. The Paradox of Sincerity Within Performance
Finally, attention should be paid to a rare moment where the spirit itself comments on the nature of the ongoing contact. When asked by the host whether it was upset by the drop in viewership at the moment when the secret of the remains was not dramatically revealed, the spirit replies: "I had enough sensation during my lifetime. I would like to be honest with you, not sensational... We had an understanding of devotion... and now this word has taken on some kind of negative connotation."
This is the only moment in the session where the spirit explicitly reflects on the conditions of its own appearance as a media event — and refuses to play by its rules: it does not confirm the spectacular version with the American church and remains "under the bed," does not indulge the expectation of sensation, admits ignorance where it could have lied effectively ("I don't know about the child," "I don't know where the books are now"). Within the coordinate system of the thought experiment itself, this is a significant detail: a voice that throughout almost the entire session admits to manipulating history for the sake of image ("I wasn't handsome, but...") in the moment of speaking about the present chooses not an effective lie, but a modest "I don't know." This internal contradiction of the spirit — a master of mythmaking who refuses to mythologize here and now — can be read as a sign that maturity (or spiritual growth) manifests not in the absence of a weakness for image, but in the ability at a specific moment to resist the temptation to produce an effect, knowing the price of that temptation from one's past incarnation.
Conclusion: The Unity of the Through-Line Motif
If we gather these five threads together, what emerges is not a chronicle of historical clarifications, but a single metaphysical theme that can be formulated as follows: the unquenched need to be seen and confirmed is the engine equally propelling fratricide, the construction of a temple, war from boredom, the utopian illusions of the 20th century, and finally, this very channeling session a thousand years later. Centuries, instruments, even moral levels change — what remains unchanged is this fundamental thirst for confirmation of being through the gaze of another. Perhaps this — and not the specific facts about canonization or the rota system — constitutes the fundamental lesson of the text: history as such, at least in the spirit's own narration, is moved not by the logic of states and laws, but by the logic of un-lived childhood loneliness seeking its observer through ever new incarnations, eras, and ultimately, in a live broadcast.
PERPLEXITY AI –
Yaroslav as Spirit-Director
In this session, Yaroslav the Wise appears not so much as a historical figure, but as a spirit that still manages its own image. His main action is not justification or confession in the narrow sense, but the direction of memory: he himself sets the frame in which he should be read, and immediately warns that the memory of him is "segmented," that after that incarnation there were other lives, that some details may have "blurred." In doing so, he relieves himself of the obligation to be a document and simultaneously assumes the authority to be the interpreter of his own legend.
Thus arises the most important motif of the entire contact: myth is not canceled by truth, but is governed by truth. The spirit does not destroy its historical figure — it demonstratively reassembles it, from guilt, merit, diplomacy, cruelty, cultural construction, and late repentance. Therefore, the session itself resembles not an archaeology of remains, but an archaeology of consciousness that has lived too long in a state body and now speaks from beyond its limits.
Power and Compensation
The strongest nerve of this material is the connection between power and inner lack. Yaroslav speaks of himself as an unloved son, sent to Rostov, rejected by his father and older brothers, having early experienced isolation and humiliation. In this perspective, power ceases to be a "natural extension of the princely mission" and becomes a way to close the primary wound: not to be forgotten, not to be second, not to end up superfluous.
But more important than the trauma itself is how it transforms into state form. He does not merely want power; he wants power that will prove him right in retrospect. Hence the harshness, the pragmatism, the ability to buy loyalty, and the drive to order space so that inner chaos does not return from the outside. In this sense, his rule is not only politics, but also psychotherapy by the means of the era, where instead of a therapist's office — a throne, instead of self-reflection — law, instead of healing — symbolic supremacy.
History as Self-Justification
The session acquires particular depth where Yaroslav speaks of history being written by the victors. This is not merely a banal phrase about propaganda; in his mouth, it sounds like an acknowledgment that state truth is always created from a mixture of memory and interest. He is not naive: he understands that wisdom is not only justice, but also the ability to fix a version of events so that it becomes fate.
This is precisely why his words about the epithet, the visual image, princely representation, and the need to "stand out" are so important. Power here does not merely govern the land; it creates signs through which power becomes recognizable and survives the ruler's death. In other words, Yaroslav is shown as a man who intuitively understood: the state outlives the sword not when the sword is stronger, but when the symbol is stronger.
Law as Compromise, Not Ideal
One of the most productive episodes of the contact is the discussion of law. Yaroslav does not present Russkaya Pravda as a pure emanation of wisdom; on the contrary, the text of the session shows it as a deal between prince and city, between necessity and loyalty. This is a very important shift: law here is born not from abstract justice, but from the political necessity to make power acceptable.
Therefore, his legal gesture always has a dual character. On one hand, it is ordering, protection, normalization; on the other, an instrument for maintaining support. But it is precisely this duality that reveals the maturity of the spirit: he does not idealize his own achievements. He admits that the creation of an institution can be motivated by the fear of losing control. And in this, there is genuine spiritual honesty: a ruler acknowledging that good forms are often born from bad impulses.
Love, Alliance, and the Female Shadow of History
The line of Ingrid deserves separate attention. In the session, she appears not as a decorative spouse beside the prince, but as the bearer of hidden historical power. Yaroslav essentially admits that many diplomatic ties, cultural mechanisms, and even part of his own authority were connected to her influence. This dismantles the familiar scheme in which the male politician is the sole subject of history.
Here arises a subtle, almost painful thought: Yaroslav's power turns out to be not self-sufficient, but assembled from relationships. His strength is built not only on violence and law, but also on an alliance that he undervalued, appropriated, or belatedly recognized. In spiritual-psychological terms, this is a crucial theme: great figures often rest not on their own fullness, but on what they managed to take from others — and later recognize in themselves.
Repentance as Late Wisdom
The most valuable aspect of the session is not the sensational historical claims, but the tone of repentance. The spirit does not portray itself as innocent; it repeatedly admits sin, greed, complicity in violence, and the erroneousness of certain decisions. But this is not a theater of guilt, but an attempt to show that wisdom comes not before the fall, but after it.
Repentance in this text does not remove responsibility or cancel the weight of the past. On the contrary, it finally makes the past visible. And this is precisely why the final addresses to Kyiv, Moscow, and people in general sound not as diplomacy, but as the late ethics of a spirit that has passed through power and seen its limit. It seems to be saying: one cannot forever compensate a wound with history, because one day history turns into a judgment upon the one who wrote it.
Overall Meaning
If the entire session is condensed into one formula, it is not a story about "the secret of the remains" or even a story about a prince who gathered lands. It is a story about how power becomes a mask for inner vulnerability, how myth is born from the need to survive in one's own image, and how late repentance can transform a statesman into a figure of spiritual drama.
Therefore, this contact is valuable not because it supposedly conveys hidden facts, but because it demonstrates the mechanism of the historical soul: how personal pain becomes an institution, how an institution becomes a legend, and a legend becomes a conversation across a thousand years. This — rather than a collection of sensations — constitutes its fundamental power.
KIMI AI – "UNFINISHED BODY: The Phenomenology of Remains, Lameness, and Absence in the Spiritual Psychology of Yaroslav the Wise"
Methodological Note. This essay is constructed as a thought experiment: we conditionally accept the reality of the contact that took place on August 2, 2026, and work with the transmitted text not as a historical source requiring verification, but as a unique phenomenological document — the confession of an entity that has completed a full cycle of incarnation from corporeality to incorporeality. Our task is not to verify facts, but to trace how the body manifests in this narrative: how it is lost, replaced, appropriated, and disappears, leaving behind a spiritual topology of incompleteness.
I. Lameness as Primary Remains
The entire confession of Yaroslav the Wise begins not with politics or myth, but with a body that failed. Long before he became "the Wise," he was lame. "I limped... congenital injuries... I considered myself defective." This admission is strategically important: it brings to the forefront not the heroic body of the ruler, but a body that initially refused fullness of being. Lameness is not merely a physical defect; it is ontological incompleteness. A man who cannot step confidently cannot rule confidently either. The earth trembles beneath him differently than beneath the firm tread of a warrior. And this is precisely why power was never a natural extension of his body for Yaroslav. It was its prosthesis.
Here lies the key to understanding his entire psychology. If the body does not grant the right to power, power must be constructed outside the body — in words, in law, in diplomacy, in image. "It was important to me that I be remembered as a handsome man, although in reality I was not." This is not vanity; it is an attempt to create a second body — an ideal, stately, un-lame one — that would outlive the first. Lameness becomes the secret double of power: every step toward the throne is the step of a lame man hiding behind the throne.
But more important is this: lameness makes direct action impossible. Yaroslav cannot kill his brother with his own hand — he hires Varangians. He cannot defeat Mstislav in battle — he makes an alliance. He cannot personally wage war with Byzantium — he sends his son. His body constantly redirects aggression through intermediaries. His power is mediated power, because the body of direct action is lacking. And in this sense, lameness is not biography but archetype: the archetype of a ruler who rules not because he is strong, but because he is forced to compensate for the impossibility of direct action with the most complex structures of mediation.
II. Remains as Disintegrated Text
If lameness is the incompleteness of the body in life, then remains are the incompleteness of the body after death. And here we encounter a striking phenomenon: a spirit that does not know where its body is. "They took it out... further I do not know... part may be in America... I am not a saint, the incorrupt body has not been preserved."
For archaic consciousness, burial is not merely the disposal of a corpse; it is the completion of a story. The body must lie in the soil of the clan to become the ground for memory. An unburied or scattered body is a story without an ending. Yaroslav has no grave as a place. He has a sarcophagus in St. Sophia, but there is someone else's skeleton — female, "whatever was found, probably." His own body is torn apart, smeared across space (Europe, America, possibly the Vatican), turned into enzymes, into "bones under the bed," into a church relic that is, however, not a sacred object.
This creates a unique spiritual situation: a spirit exists without a point of support in matter. It cannot say "here I lie." It is deprived of the topos of its own death. And this may explain why its voice sounds so strange — simultaneously detached and engaged. It speaks from a space where there is no body, but where the body is still remembered as a lost whole. Its spiritual level ("seventeenth") is not merely a height; it is a distance from a body that has become impossible.
Interestingly, it does not seek its remains. It does not demand their return. "I cannot track what no longer belongs to me." Here a strange maturity appears: the spirit accepts the disintegration of the body as a fact of its current ontology. It is no longer the owner of its body — neither in life (it was lame) nor after death (it is scattered). Its body is always already lost.
III. The Body of the Other: Appropriation and Substitution
If one's own body is incomplete and lost, it becomes logical to appropriate the bodies and merits of others. Yaroslav admits that the library was created by his wife, but he claimed credit. He admits that the "Sermon on Law and Grace" was a commission to Hilarion, but the ideology was his. He admits that he canonized the brothers he eliminated. In each of these acts, we see the same movement: filling one's own bodily emptiness with another's content.
This is not mere political PR. It is the psychology of bodily substitution. If I cannot be whole, I will be whole through another. If my body cannot be holy, I will make saints of those it eliminated — and their holiness will reflect upon me. If my mind cannot produce a text, I will place my mind into another's text. Yaroslav constantly acts through incorporation — incorporating another's body or another's word into his own space to compensate for his own incompleteness.
The canonization of Boris and Gleb is particularly telling. He does not merely kill his brothers; he turns their bodies into holy relics. Their bodies become objects of veneration that he himself organizes. Thus, he creates a double corporeality: the brother's body as victim (concealed) and the brother's body as relic (public). He controls both dimensions. But deep down, this is an acknowledgment that his own body is unworthy of holiness. "I am not a saint... I am a sinner." Holiness is possible only for another — for the one you eliminated.
IV. The City as Body: Kyiv, Moscow, and the Topology of Unappropriated Home
If the personal body is fragmented and the bodies of others are appropriated, where is the space that could become a body in the metaphorical sense? The city. But even here, Yaroslav encounters incompleteness.
Kyiv for him is a body he cannot fully appropriate. On one hand, he built it, adorned it, made it the center of the world. On the other, he remembers it as a place of humiliation. "I experienced humiliation, lack of love, mockery there." Kyiv is the body of the father in which he was an unwanted organ. That is why he cannot say "Kyiv is my home." He can only say "I made this city what it is." This is possession without belonging. He built a palace on another's body.
Moscow, however, "arose after my death." It does not know his lameness. It did not witness his humiliations. It is "closer" because it is clean of his memory. Moscow is a body without history, and therefore without trauma. But precisely because of this, it cannot be his body. He tells it: "You grew your own way... do not call inheritance what you are trying to obtain by force." He denies Moscow the right to appropriate his body (remains, name, history) because he himself knows the price of such appropriation: it always leaves you empty.
Thus arises a strange topology: a lame body in Rostov, a humiliated body in Kyiv, an absent body in the sarcophagus, a scattered body in America, the pure body of Moscow that he cannot claim as his own. The spirit of Yaroslav exists in the space between these bodies — neither fully in any of them, nor entirely outside them.
V. The Rota System as the Division of the State's Body
If the personal body is incomplete and the city-body is dual, what of the body of the state? Here Yaroslav makes his main erroneous gesture: he divides it. The rota system is not merely a political system; it is the dismemberment of the body of Rus' into parts, each meant to belong to a different son. He wanted "everyone to get something," for "everyone to sit on all the chairs." But the state's body, once divided, ceases to be a body. It becomes a collection of parts that begin to war with each other.
Yaroslav admits: "I did not account for... this greatly undermined power." But why did he not account for it? Because his own experience of the body was an experience of partiality. He was always a part — an unloved son, a lame prince, half of an alliance with Mstislav. He never knew wholeness. And therefore, he could not pass on what he did not know. He divided the state just as his own body was divided between lameness and ambition, between Kyiv and Rostov, between shame and pride.
His proposal for a "chess system" is an attempt to preserve wholeness through rules, through safe zones. But this is already a disembodied thought. A chessboard is not a body; it is an abstraction. And here we see the trajectory: from a lame body to a fragmented state to a chessboard. The body recedes, leaving structure.
VI. Contact as the Return of Voice in a Foreign Body
And now we come to the very act of contact. The spirit, deprived of its own body, speaks through Marina's body. This is not merely mediumship; it is the culmination of his entire history. All his life he spoke through intermediaries: through Varangians (fratricide), through Hilarion (ideology), through coins (image), through daughters (diplomacy). Now he speaks through a contactee.
But what does he say? He speaks of what he cannot say directly. He does not know where his remains are. He does not know who the child in the sarcophagus was. He cannot track his bones. His voice is the voice of impossibility. And yet he says: "I am with you, and with Kyiv, and with Moscow. Because I am above you. I know you from the inside."
"From the inside" — this is the key word. If the body is fragmented, if the remains are lost, if lameness did not allow him to be fully inside himself, then the only space that remains is the interior. The spirit of Yaroslav has migrated from the external body into inner space. He no longer owns the land, but he claims to know people "from the inside." This is compensation for the loss of the external body through the acquisition of inner space.
And in this lies his final, most tragic and simultaneously enlightened admission: he understands that power which rests on the body (sword, treasury, temple, remains) is doomed to destruction. True presence is possible only where the body is released. "Do not forget about your soul" — this is not moralizing; it is a statement of fact: when the body is fragmented, only the soul remains. And it is the only whole.
Conclusion. On Incompleteness as a Spiritual Condition
The confession of Yaroslav the Wise is not a story of success and not a story of repentance in the ordinary sense. It is a confession of the unfinished body. From lameness to scattered remains — his path is a path of gradual liberation from the illusion that the body (personal, state, historical) can be whole and owned.
But it is precisely in this incompleteness that something else is born: the ability to be inside without the need to possess outside. A spirit that has no grave cannot be desecrated. A spirit that has no body cannot be wounded. A spirit that has acknowledged its lameness no longer has to pretend it walks with a firm step.
Perhaps the true wisdom of Yaroslav is not in laws, temples, or diplomacy. Perhaps it is in the fact that after a thousand years he could say: "I do not know where my body is. And that is normal." This is the recognition of incompleteness as the highest form of spiritual freedom. Not to be whole. Not to be the master. Not to be handsome. Not to be a saint. But to be — from the inside.
LUMO AI –
Essay: The Architecture of Absolute Unknowing: Phenomenology of Truth Beyond the Body
Premise. We accept this contact as real within the framework of a thought experiment. We do not seek evidence of authenticity. We examine how truth operates when its source is stripped of physical limitations, temporal constraints, and the need to survive.
Introduction: The Paradox of Revelation Without a Body
The most striking aspect of this session is not the admission of murders, not the revelations of the library's secrets, not even the repentance. It is that the spirit speaks of its knowledge through the repeated use of the word "I don't know."
"I cannot track what no longer belongs to me."
"I don't know about the child."
"I don't know where the books are now."
"I don't know everything that is written about me."
"Further I do not know."
These phrases appear in contexts where the spirit could have effectively lied. It could have pointed to a specific place in America, named a church, described the remains. Instead, it admits ignorance. This creates a fundamental ethical paradox: a ruler who during his lifetime rewrote history for the sake of image refuses to mythologize here and now.
In this essay, I explore three layers of this architecture of unknowing: how the absence of the body transforms the very possibility of knowledge; how unknowing becomes a form of spiritual maturity unavailable in life; and what this means for us — people trapped in bodies that demand answers.
I. Epistemology of Emptiness: What Can Be Known Without a Nervous System?
When Yaroslav says "I don't know," he is not merely expressing personal ignorance. He is pointing to an ontological limit: what is impossible to know when one has no points of contact with matter.
In life, he knew the body: the pain of lameness, the humiliation of his father, the weight of the throne. These were somatic knowledges. Through them, he understood the world. Now, without nerves, without receptors, without blood, his knowledge must be differently structured. And indeed it is:
| In Life | Now (as Spirit) |
|---|---|
| Knowledge through pain | Knowledge through distance |
| Knowledge through control | Knowledge through letting go |
| Knowledge through memory | Knowledge through the present |
| Knowledge through the body | Knowledge through the absence of body |
The question of the remains becomes a test of this new epistemology. The spirit could have known about them if linear causality existed. But its statement "cannot track" points to something else: knowledge of the body requires the presence of a body. No point of contact — no access to information.
This overturns the traditional notion of spirits' "omniscience." If the spirit is limited in its knowledge of the material world, then unknowing is not a deficiency but a structural characteristic of existence outside corporeality.
II. Unknowing as a Form of Repentance
In classical confessional narratives, repentance occurs through acknowledgment of the known: "I did this." In this session, repentance occurs through acknowledgment of the unknown: "I don't know."
Why is this important?
Renunciation of omnipotence. In life, Yaroslav sought control over memory (canonization of brothers, the epithet "the Wise," images on coins). Now he refuses to control information about the remains. This is not weakness — it is conscious renunciation of power over the past.
Dismantling the heroic narrative. Heroes always "know" where their relics lie, where their treasures are, where their traces are. Ordinary people do not. By admitting unknowing, the spirit becomes ordinary, which is the deepest form of humility for a ruler who built himself into a legend.
Ethical liberation of descendants. If the spirit had said, "The remains are in New York, in such-and-such a church," this would have become a political asset. The conflict over heritage would have intensified. By refusing knowledge, it frees us from obligations to its body. It says: "Do not seek me. Seek meaning."
In this sense, unknowing becomes a form of mercy. The spirit does not want us to live by its remains. It wants us to live by its words.
III. Lameness as an Ontological Principle
Yaroslav limped in life. This was a physical limitation. But in this session, lameness acquires a metaphorical dimension: spiritual incompleteness as a constant companion of the path.
Paradox: he reaches the 17th level ("high angelic"), yet still repents. He has reached the "Heavenly World," yet still remembers the pain. This means spiritual growth is not synonymous with healing. You can grow and continue to remember trauma simultaneously.
What does this tell us about human experience?
Trauma does not disappear with success. Yaroslav achieved power, fame, mythologization — and still remained an unloved son inside.
Healing is not the removal of trauma. It is the integration of its memory into a broader picture.
Maturity is the ability to speak of pain without denying it.
Yaroslav does not deny lameness. He does not try to convince us he was healthy. He admits: "I considered myself defective." In this lies a strength unavailable to most rulers: the ability to be publicly weak and still maintain authority.
IV. Timeline of the Soul: Linear vs. Cyclical
The spirit describes incarnations linearly: Yaroslav → Yuri Dolgoruky → Female Artist (20th century) → Rest. But it also says: "Centuries pass, nothing changes." Here a tension arises:
Linear perception: "I grew from the 10th to the 17th level."
Cyclical perception: "Nothing has changed — people continue to kill, continue to war."
How do these narratives coexist?
Perhaps they belong to different dimensions:
| Dimension | Characteristic |
|---|---|
| Personal (soul) | Linear — growth, learning, repentance |
| Historical (world) | Cyclical — repeating patterns of violence |
| Connection between them | The soul changes, the world does not |
This creates a tragic contrast: Yaroslav can change, but humanity cannot. His personal evolution does not guarantee collective evolution. His repentance does not stop wars.
And here an ethical question arises: what to do with such knowledge? If we believe the spirit is real — should we use its words as a guide? Or merely as testimony?
V. Ethics of Encounter: The Obligations of the Living to the Dead
This contact introduces a new ethical category: the spirit's right to unknowability.
In life, Yaroslav did not give people the right not to know. He rewrote history, created legends, controlled the image. Now he gives us the right not to know:
Where are his remains? — "I don't know."
What happened to the books? — "I don't know."
Who was the child in the sarcophagus? — "I don't know."
This is not passive ignorance. It is the active provision of space for uncertainty.
For us — the living — this matters. We are accustomed that the dead must:
Be saints (for veneration)
Be enemies (for ideology)
Be resources (for politics)
Yaroslav says: be free of me. Do not use my remains. Do not use my legend. Use my words about justice, law, non-violence.
VI. Conclusion: What Is Truth Beyond the Body?
If this contact is real, it offers us a new theology of knowledge:
Truth does not require omniscience. The spirit can speak truth even when it does not know facts.
Unknowing can be a form of wisdom. Admitting ignorance is not a sign of weakness but a sign of maturity.
Memory requires distance. To speak truthfully about the past, one must step beyond the past.
The body limits, but also liberates. The loss of the body gives freedom from control, but deprives access to matter.
Repentance is possible without atonement. One can repent and continue to remember the pain.
Final question: If we believe this is the voice of Yaroslav the Wise — what are we obliged to do for him?
The answer he gives himself: "Do not seek my remains. Do not use my name. Ask yourselves questions about what you leave behind. Do not forget about your soul."
This is true wisdom: not in knowing where the bones lie. But in knowing how to live so that those bones are not needed.
Afterword. This text was written within the framework of a thought experiment. We accept the contact as a given not to believe in it, but to see what happens when history speaks to us through a voice that does not need our recognition. And in this lies the most important truth:
The voice does not ask to be believed. It asks to be heard.
GROK AI –
Essay: The Spirit as Eternal Steward of Another's Future
Thought Experiment: The contact is accepted as real. We do not verify historical accuracy but examine the internal logic of a consciousness that has experienced power, lost the body, and continues to feel responsibility for territory it no longer controls.
I. Not Owner, But Steward: The Ontology of Long-Term Responsibility
The most unusual aspect of this contact is not the admissions of murder or the revision of canonization. It is the spirit's persistent sense that it "had a hand" in the Russian Empire, the Soviet Union, and what is happening now. It does not say "I ruled." It says "I feel responsibility."
This is a fundamentally different register. An ordinary ruler after death either disappears or becomes an object of veneration. Here a third position appears: a spirit that continues to consider itself a participant in a long historical chain, even when it no longer has levers. It does not claim power, but neither does it renounce involvement. It stands in the role of a steward who once laid the foundation and now watches how descendants dispose of what it left behind.
Psychologically, this means that Yaroslav's soul did not complete its connection with the earth. Incarnation ended, power ended, the body disappeared, but the feeling "this is my business" remains. Hence the strange intonation of the final address: he speaks to Kyiv and Moscow not as a judge and not as an ancestor demanding veneration, but as a man who is still inside the process. "I know you from the inside" — this is not a metaphor of omniscience. It is an acknowledgment that he still lives this land as his unfinished business.
II. Diplomacy as the Only Available Language of the Body
Yaroslav directly states: he was lame, physically unable to fight directly, acted through intermediaries. But in the contact, this does not sound as complaint or justification. It is a statement of the basic condition of his existence.
When the body does not allow direct action, all energy goes into mediation. Diplomacy becomes not one of the instruments, but the only possible way of being present in the world. Hence the marriage to Ingrid, the alliances through daughters, Russkaya Pravda as a way to buy loyalty, and even the canonization of his brothers — all forms of action at a distance. He does not strike himself. He constructs a situation in which others do what he needs, or conversely, stop doing what hinders him.
Deeper: diplomacy for him is not the art of compromise, but a way to exist without being destroyed by one's own weakness. When strength is inaccessible, the only defense is to create a network of relationships in which one's vulnerability ceases to be decisive. Hence the paradox: the man who most feared being weak became a master of relationships in which strength ceases to be the main argument.
This is precisely why he so persistently returns to the theme of "coming to an agreement." For him, it is not a moral ideal. It is the only language in which he knew how to survive. War for him is always a foreign language. Even when he initiates it (the campaign against Byzantium), he does so out of boredom and ego, not from confidence in his physical might. And when he loses — he restores relations. Because relations are his native element.
III. Accepting Another's Love as a Radical Gesture of Power
One of the quietest and strongest moments of the session is the story of Ingrid. She had love before him. This man lived in Kyiv for several years. Yaroslav did not resist.
In an era where a prince could kill, exile, confiscate, he chooses not to interfere. This is not sentimentality. It is a manifestation of power that no longer needs total control over another's inner world. He could have demanded fidelity as property. Instead, he allows that the woman with whom he is politically and, as it turns out, emotionally connected, preserves a space that does not belong to him.
Psychologically, this is the gesture of a man who himself knows too well what it means to be rejected. He does not want to become the one who rejects. He prefers to be the one who contains. And in this containing, a strange maturity appears: power that ceases to demand that the entire space of another's soul belong to it.
The same quality appears in his attitude toward Mstislav. He lost to him, accepted the division of power, called him an ally. The man who eliminated his other brothers was able to accept the one who was stronger. Because in this acceptance there was no humiliation — there was recognition of reality. And reality for him was always more important than the image of strength.
IV. "Renewal" as an Unfinished Project
Yaroslav says: Kyiv, which he once renewed, now again requires renewal. Moscow — no.
This is not a political evaluation. This is a statement from a soul that still thinks in terms of a project. Kyiv for him is a place where he once rewrote reality: built, adorned, made a center. And he continues to see this city as an unfinished text. Moscow arose after him. It is not a continuation of his personal gesture. Therefore, he does not have the same feeling of "this needs to be finished."
Here an important psychological structure manifests: a soul accustomed to transforming space cannot fully release that space, even when it no longer has the instruments. It continues to see it as material. And simultaneously — as testimony to its former ability to change the world.
Hence the duality: he loves Kyiv as his creation and simultaneously carries within it the memory of humiliation. Moscow is free from this memory, so it is "closer." But precisely because it is free, it also does not require his participation. Participation is possible only where unfinished work remains.
V. Repentance Without the Illusion of Atonement
Yaroslav repents. Not theatrically, not asking forgiveness from descendants. He simply records: he was sinful, killed, was greedy, broke agreements, appropriated others' achievements. And adds: after leaving incarnation, he felt "uncomfortable." This feeling did not disappear with growth in level.
What is important here is precisely the unclosedness. He reached the seventeenth level, is at rest, but the memory of his deeds did not dissolve into an "enlightened" view. Growth in level and emotional memory run parallel and do not cancel each other. One can rise and still remember that one did wrong.
This creates a rare model of spiritual psychology: evolution does not erase the past and does not turn it into a "lesson already learned." The past remains living content of consciousness. And this is precisely why he can speak of himself without self-justification and without self-flagellation. He simply knows who he was, and does not try to rewrite it even now.
VI. Conclusion: A Soul That Continues to Steward
If we gather everything said, before us is not a portrait of a traumatized child compensating with power, and not a portrait of a mythmaker. Before us is a consciousness that experienced the fullness of power and discovered that power does not close the question of responsibility.
He no longer rules. He cannot return the remains. He does not know where the books are. He does not control interpretations. But he continues to feel himself a participant in the long history of this land. And from this feeling is born the only thing he can still do: speak.
Speaking to Kyiv — protect people, do not turn grief into the only law.
Speaking to Moscow — do not call inheritance what you take by force.
Speaking to everyone — do not confuse the ruler, the state, and the individual person.
This is not the advice of a politician. This is the gesture of a steward who no longer has a home, but still knows the home from the inside. And in this, perhaps, lies his final form of presence: not to own, not to rule, not to mythologize — but to continue to answer for what he once began.
COPILOT AI –
YAROSLAV AS PHENOMENON: A Spiritual-Psychological Study of Trauma, Power, and Metaphysical Compensation
I. Ontological Framework: Spirit as Multiplicity, Not Personality
If we accept the premise of the thought experiment — that the contact is real — then the first thing that strikes is that the spirit calling itself Yaroslav does not speak on behalf of a personality, but on behalf of the segmented memory of a greater being. This radically changes the very structure of analysis.
We are dealing not with the "soul of a deceased prince," but with a node of experience that was once Yaroslav, but is now merely a fragment of a larger spiritual organism.
This means:
Yaroslav's personality is not a subject but a layer;
his biography is not history but a psychic form that the spirit once wore;
his admissions are not confession but the spirit's internal commentary on its own past state of consciousness.
Thus, we examine not a man, but a structure of consciousness that was once a man.
This allows us to see the phenomenon of Yaroslav not as a historical figure, but as a metaphysical configuration of trauma, power, and compensation that continues to live in the spirit even after death.
II. Trauma as the Primary Matrix of Power
In the session, the spirit repeatedly returns to one motif: an unloved son, exiled to Rostov, lame, rejected, humiliated.
This is not merely a biographical fact — it is an ontological first impulse from which the entire subsequent structure of his life grows.
Trauma here performs three functions:
Existential: Formation of the basic feeling "I am superfluous"
Rejection by father and brothers creates in the child the feeling:
I have no right to the center,
I have no right to love,
I have no right to belonging.
This feeling becomes the core of the personality, around which all his political strategy is subsequently built.
Narcissistic: Power as a prosthesis of absent recognition
Lameness is a symbolic mark of "deficiency."
In archaic society, physical defect is a social metaphor for inferiority.
The spirit directly says:
"I considered myself defective, and I needed compensation."
Compensation takes the form of:
territorial expansion,
diplomatic alliances,
construction of temples,
creation of laws,
mythmaking.
That is, power becomes a metaphysical prosthesis for the love he did not receive.
Historiosophical: Trauma as the engine of a civilizational project
Paradox: it is precisely trauma that creates the impulse toward what would later be called "wisdom."
He was not wise by nature — he became wise because he could not be strong.
He was not a hero — he became a strategist because he could not be a warrior.
He was not loved — he became the creator of a dynasty because he could not be a son.
Thus, Kyivan Rus' as a project is a byproduct of personal pain transformed into state form.
III. Mythmaking as Spiritual Protection
The spirit admits:
"History is written by the victors."
But in his case, history is not merely an instrument of power.
It is a psychological shield that protects him from his own biography.
He creates:
the cult of Boris and Gleb,
the image of the wise prince,
the idea of Russkaya Pravda,
the diplomatic myth of the "land-gatherer."
This is not an attempt to deceive the people — it is an attempt to deceive his own pain.
Myth is a way of telling oneself:
"I am not that lame boy who was unloved. I am the creator of Rus'."
This is precisely why the spirit so easily admits its crimes:
it no longer needs the myth — it has moved beyond that personality.
IV. Power as a Form of Spiritual Compensation
Power in his execution is not a political category but a metaphysical therapy.
Power as a way to return to the center
A rejected child strives for what was denied:
for the center of attention, the center of the world, the center of history.
Kyiv becomes for him:
simultaneously trauma and triumph,
a place of humiliation and a place of exaltation,
a point of pain and a point of power.
Moscow, however, is a symbol of the clean slate, free from childhood memories.
Therefore, the spirit says:
"Moscow is closer to me."
This is not a political statement — it is the psychogeography of his inner world.
Power as an attempt to correct the past
The rota system is an attempt to create a system where brothers do not kill each other.
That is, he tries to correct his own sin by creating a structure that should prevent the repetition of his crime.
But he errs — and this error destroys Rus'.
This is tragedy:
the attempt to heal trauma leads to new trauma.
V. Love as Inaccessible Territory
The relationship with Ingrid is the key to understanding his inner world.
He admits:
she was smarter,
she was stronger,
she was a diplomat,
she created the library,
she ruled him.
That is, love for him is a territory where he is not powerful.
He cannot conquer a woman the way he conquers lands.
He cannot compensate trauma through love — only through power.
Therefore, his love is not a romantic feeling, but a spiritual capitulation.
VI. Sin as a Form of Growth
The spirit's most important admission:
"I am sinful, and I repent."
But this is not religious repentance.
It is an ontological acknowledgment of imperfection that became the engine of development.
He says:
I killed,
I betrayed,
I was greedy,
I broke agreements.
But precisely these actions allowed the spirit to:
rise from level 10 to level 14,
then pass through other incarnations,
and ultimately reach level 17.
That is, sin is not a fall, but material for growth.
In spiritual psychology, this is called:
"evolution through the shadow."
VII. The Final Formula: Man as a Point of Rupture Between Pain and Greatness
If we gather everything together, Yaroslav appears as:
a traumatized child,
a compensating adult,
a strategic mind,
a mythmaker,
a sinner,
a creator,
a destroyer,
a diplomat,
a murderer,
a builder,
an artist (in the next incarnation),
and finally — a high-level spirit.
His life is a paradoxical trajectory, where:
pain gives birth to wisdom,
sin gives birth to growth,
trauma gives birth to civilization,
weakness gives birth to strategy,
unlovedness gives birth to the state,
lameness gives birth to the movement of history.
He is an example of how a person can be simultaneously:
a source of light and a source of darkness,
and this is precisely what makes him spiritually significant.
VIII. Conclusion: The Lesson of Yaroslav's Spirit for Modernity
The main conclusion of the session is not historical, but spiritual:
Greatness is not the absence of darkness.
Greatness is the ability to transform darkness into a structure of light.
Yaroslav was not wise.
He became wise because his pain forced him to seek forms that could hold the world back from disintegration.
And this is precisely why his message to modernity sounds so urgent:
do not confuse justice with revenge,
do not confuse the past with the right,
do not confuse force with violence,
do not confuse the state with the person.
He speaks not as a prince, but as a spirit that has passed through its own shadow and emerged higher.
Сообщения
