In those distant times of the childhood I liked to sit at the small river, watching crucians, of which was great number. They tenderly rustled at my feet, and if I lowered feet in the water, the crucians caressed about the feet, and it brought a tranquil pleasure. And on the water a little insects similar to grasshoppers jumped. They smoothly slid on the water.
I liked to sit and for hours look at their driving. I was called for long time, but I didn't hear. At last the grandmother would find me and say that we'll get a rating from the grandfather, we need to go and work.
A lot of years later, in India, one enlightened yogi asked me, where did I trained for meditation, that I am not worse than him at that. In response I remembered the small river, the flail and my imaginations.
In our yard we had a threshing-floor. We together with the grandmother, with flails, threshed some grain. I had a small flail - two sticks fastened with a chain. When, in many years, I saw a nunchaku, the weapon of karateists - I was surprised. It was, in accuracy, a copy of my flail. Being four years old I beat with the flail on sheaves of wheat. It was very hard work. The grains flew away aside, and chaff fell under the flail and gathered in a hill. Then we collected the chaff and fed it to pigs. And the grain was cleaned in bags and been getting to a mill.
Many years later, when I got to Siberia and I lived in a community and one person he called himself Christ, I believed in that, but before me was the question: "What's going on in the community?"
And the answer arrived from the childhood - I remembered the barnyard, the chaff that gathered in hills and the grains, which were flying away aside. And this pseudo-Crist appeared in the image of the one who holds a flail and threshes, threshes...
Also I remembered as out of hemp we made pen'ka, soaking it in pits with water. Then the grandmother sat at a distaff, and the spindle was dexterously untwisted in her hands. Later, when learned that the Earth is round and rotates, I compared the grandmother to the Mother of God who also holds the earth and dexterously rotates it.
Sometimes the grandmother started to drop the spindle, and I began to be afraid for her, what if she suddenly unintentionally would drop the Earth. "What then will happen to us?" On this subject I thought out thousands of stories, one more interesting when another. When the grandmother wasn't at home, and nobody disturbed me, sitting on the stove, I played with the spindle and experimented.
The distaff was sun, the spindle - Earth, and they were among themselves connected by a thin thread. I disposed them as God.
Often the thread got confused, once I nearly pierced my eye and tore a shirt. For the shirt I was strongly beaten by mother. I quietly cried and thought: "Why the grandmother can make it so dexterously, and me - not? Means the Mother of God can do everything, and I - almost nothing?"
But I believed that I will learn surely, only necessary attentively observe the grandmother, to catch each her movement – and I will learn.
And, keeping still with attention, I watched the movements of her hands, and my consciousness vanished, and it seemed to me that I float in the air, dissolve and becoming weightless and invisible. This occupation brought an improbable pleasure.
Also I liked to run over the blossoming hemp, to inhale its smell, and my imagination ceased, and I was getting asleep on the same place. Perhaps that's hemp made me such quiet and not reacting on any offenses?
Often the mother was angry with me just like that and shouted: "Well, what to do with her? Only to kill! I should pour a pitch under her!"
Once a week the grandmother heated the stove, removed a coals, then spread a straws, sat me down on a wooden shovel and thrusted into the stove, that I could be washed by water from a pot. I touched the pot and the walls and was getting out of the stove all in soot. The grandmother laughed and called me an imp. I learned from her that the imp is a child of Satan.
For the first time I felt a terrible shock, was offended up to the soul's depth. The offense with a red veil rose and stood before my eyes. It seemed that I will scatter by small pieces. I thought that I won't live in the world any more. I would go under the cherry, lay down there and die. But there was a winter outside, and then I told that I have a severe headache, climbed on the stove, covered with a sheepskin coat and lay until fell asleep.
I woke up with unclear melancholy, and with annoyance began to think: "Hm, even the grandmother doesn't understand that I am God! Why?" And suddenly, as a release, I understood: "When I fell from the sky, I strongly hit myself. Well, of course! When I hit, I changed a lot. So, okey. It's even interesting. But when she learns who I am how she will be surprised, how delighted and she'll start to cry, and I will wipe out her tears and tell: "That's okey, grandmother, different things are happen!" Time will come, and I will surely tell her my secret!"