How our ancestors created books

2024 Author: Seth Attwood | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 15:55

Alexander Semyonovich Ivanchenko is a very interesting person. He served in the SVR and was Rear Admiral of the Russian Navy. In 1965, leading (under a pseudonym) the Indonesian fleet donated to the USSR, he was able to defeat the NATO fleet, which was 2 times more numerous, in an unequal battle. For this A. Ivanchenko was awarded the highest award of Indonesia and was its honorary citizen. In addition, Alexander Semyonovich was the head of the World Society of Pagans, historian, traveler, president of several famous European banks; cutter of precious stones, keeper of Vedic libraries in the Himalayas, Tibet and Ukraine. He is the author of the songs "Anthem of Soviet Border Guards" and "My Ridna Mats, You Didn't Sleep at Night", Doctor of several sciences, publisher of the Slavyane magazine. His most interesting book "The Ways of the Great Russian" was published posthumously. In the late 90s A. Ivanchenko wrote a book about the fate of many intelligence officers who worked for the Soviet Union. The book was called Lost and Betrayed. The book was not published, his colleagues were able to confiscate the manuscript and all the documents …

Fragment from the book by A. Ivanchenko "In the ways of the great Russian"

… when he first opened a huge book in front of me, I remember how stinging goosebumps ran all over my body, and I froze in a daze, and my two-year-old older sister, Vera, stood next to me completely calm. It turned out that she did not see anything except those two flat drawings, which are placed on the first page of this book of mine. Vera saw only with her eyes, and not with all the cells of her body, as I did.

The book, which had surprising for the uninitiated, the book opened before me by Zoran was one of our usual pre-Christian books, which Christians who baptized Russia burned as a devilish "black book", although they had nothing to do with devilry. Their whole secret was the ability of our ancestors to use bioenergy.

The parchment for them was made from the skin of three to four-week-old suckling foals. Its flesh side was made to look like fine-fiber suede, the reverse side was smooth. Then the finished leather was cut into sheets along the length of three quarters of an arshin (53.34 cm) and 2.5 spans (42 cm) wide. On the smooth side, the sheets, as well as their ends, were covered with a thin layer of baked white clay powder mixed with egg yolk, which is now used for the production of porcelain and faience. It also makes those white cups that you see on all the poles of power lines - they have the quality of a dielectric and serve as insulators.

The side of the sheets covered with clay powder was dried on copper baking trays over a weak fire in a closed room, after which the sheets were turned over and in the same copper baking trays they were exposed to the hot sun so that the suede side of the parchment was saturated with solar energy. But suede does not absorb all the energy of our luminary, but only those of its radiation, which are also characteristic of bioenergy. Now they have been rediscovered not so long ago and called Z-rays.

Then the sheets of parchment were stitched like modern thick notebooks with a metal spiral on the spine. But instead of such a spiral, they used steamed chiseled twigs made of well-dried beech or ash bent into oval rings. Excluding the bog oak cover upholstered with thin copper sheets, the book was made four inches thick (18 cm). On the cover it was runnels, that is, its name was engraved. To make it better read, silver and niello was poured into the grooves of the letters. At the same time, the same massive oak-copper case was made for the book with a cover on the right closed with copper clasps.

The book was tinkering for centuries … It was she who mastered it, and with great care, because for the safety of the information that was put into it, every detail of her material had to have certain physical qualities. Many Babylonian-Assyrian clay "tables" with their cuneiform have come down to us. Wedge-shaped letters were squeezed out on wet clay, which was then dried and fired like ceramics. I am talking about this so that the reader can compare for himself how our ancestors created books in the same ancient times.

At first, the text of the future book was written by rosichi, sharpened like a pencil, with a metal stylus on wax-covered boards, where any corrections were allowed both in the text itself and in the accompanying symbolic drawings. The author cannot write "whitewashed" at once. Trying to accurately convey his thought, he sometimes "runs" after it, not caring about spelling, then he looks for the most expressive words, crossing out some and putting others in place of them. He is a creator, and creativity is born in pain. Nevertheless, the main thing in the creation of the book was not author or a group of authors, and the one who wrote on wax plates copied on parchment. He wrote with a goose or swan quill in scarlet ink made of spruce resin (resin) dissolved in alcohol and finely crushed cinnabar.

Not everyone could be a scribe, but only a person with a rich imagination and such body cells that emit bioenergy. Then all the pictures that arise in his imagination, together with his biocurrents, are absorbed into the parchment, like a film strip. Therefore, the side of the parchment on which he writes and draws is made to look like fine-fiber suede - to increase its area. After all, if you stretch each fiber of suede, then its total area will turn out to be many times larger than its smooth reverse side, covered with white clay. And such a coating is made for the same purpose as the porcelain cups on the poles of power lines - for isolation, so that the bioenergy of the writer does not penetrate through one sheet of parchment to another.

And it was no coincidence that he wrote cinnabar mixed with spruce resin. The scribe's cells emit bioenergy, but mine are arranged differently, they accept his biocurrents, like a TV, and I see everything that arose in his imagination when he wrote. And at the same time I read the text like the credits in a silent film. Because the cinnabar energy did not absorb its energy, it passed into the parchment only through the spruce resin mixed with it, which holds the cinnabar particles in itself. Thanks to this, the effect of titles is created, as if hanging in the air between you and those living pictures that the suede parchment has absorbed. But my sister Verochka did not see the pictures, since they are not perceived with the eyes, the eyes see only what is written in cinnabar, and the pictures are perceived by the cells of the body, if they have such a quality. Therefore, the recently deceased famous Bulgarian soothsayer Vanga, being blind, clearly saw all living things and accurately described in words the appearance of everyone who came to her. Our eyes cannot decode pictures encoded in biocurrents. Why - I do not know.

It seems to me that just like me, everyone sees, for me this is usual, but everyone says that such an innate ability is rarely found in people. That is why Zoran came to our Misailovka from the Pamir, especially to teach me. My midwife Daromirka told him about me shortly after my birth, and he came to us for two years when I was ready to study. But they didn't tell me anything about it, they just introduced me to a very interesting grandfather, to whom I had to come every day to study. He settled at Daromirka.

Tall, stern, with a wedge-colored beard falling down to his chest, Zoran behaved with me as if I were not a boy for him at all, but an equal. Today I can hardly believe what matters he was talking with me about when I was only 4-5 years old. And in general it is difficult, perhaps, to imagine a boy at that age as something like a student of the Platonic Academy. But still, speaking about this, remembering those years, I am not at all inclined to exaggerate anything, and this is not permissible for me.

(Now, from the top of my current age, I am curious to look at that little man who was at the same time an ordinary boy who did not shy away from anything that is typical of childhood, and a kind of little barefoot sage in short pants, a fly-away shirt and an overly wide-brimmed checkered cap, who I hated it, but Zoran, who ordered it for me in Boguslav, said that in summer on a sunny day I shouldn't go out into the street without him, it’s necessary. there were lovely canvas shoes, and for the fall - boots. However, I had to gain the strength of the earth).

Try not in frost yet, but appear shod in frost. Zoran will look like he’s throwing needles at you. And Mirka gasps, as if Zoran pierced her with his glance, not me. This is what I mean to myself - Mirka - in revenge I called her names, because she did not like to be addressed with a diminutive name - grandma Mirka instead of, as expected, Daromirka, or in the affectionate expression of Daromir. It was a bargaining passion. No need for Baba Yaga in a company with Koshchey the Immortal. But Koschey is not Zoran, no.

Smoother, smoother, he stayed with me, but did not drop the words of vain. By the time I was four years old, I managed to get a reputation in Misailovka not only on our Bodnya, but even in Nadrosya and on the distant Yars as an unbearable bully and mischievous everywhere, why grandma Daromirka, as I now understand, was in constant anxiety: suddenly I would throw out another bunk and in earnest I will annoy Zoran, but he will refuse to study with me. And she didn’t call him to Misailovka from the low beam. Another, much more essential, could not but disturb her: Emelya-Meli-Nedelya, perhaps I’ll start splashing my tongue about Zoran’s lessons. It seems to the ignorant that the "witch hunt" came to naught in the Age of Enlightenment. No matter how it is!

In 1931, our People's Commissariat for Health convened in Moscow All-Union Congress of Psychics, about two hundred people gathered. The congress continued to work for a week and a half until everyone spoke. Then its participants were supposedly invited to dinner at the Kremlin, but in fact they were taken by buses outside Moscow and shot somewhere in the forest near Istra. Accidentally, several people did not get to the “Kremlin dinner party”, and one of the drivers of those buses, risking their heads, warned them, how he saved their lives, both themselves and many others, about whom there was apparently no information in the People's Commissariat for Health and therefore they escaped the fate of their more famous colleagues, but they had to hide for a very long time …