The fact that poets have a prophetic gift has been known since ancient times. They are able to foresee the fate of other people and their own fate, in particular, the time and circumstances of leaving this world. Poets can predict wars, revolutions, natural disasters in their poems.
How do they do it? What higher power is dictating prophetic lines to them? There are many scientific and pseudo-scientific theories on this score. But scientists have not yet come to a consensus.
How will our word respond …
A variety of specialists are trying to figure out the nature of the prophetic properties of poetry: philosophers, literary scholars, neurophysiologists, futurologists … So, the Russian parapsychologist Ilya Vasiliev believes that at the moment of the highest emotional creative tension, called inspiration, the poet comes into direct connection with the energy-informational field of the Earth, the great planetary and cosmic forces.
In this powerful timeless stream, the creator intuitively draws information about both the past and the future of humanity. The information received is clothed in verse lines, and the poet himself most often cannot clearly explain why he wrote that way.
All nations have poets-prophets. Reflecting on the nature of their work, the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung determined that these geniuses have the gift of expressing universal unconscious knowledge. Plunging into the depths of this collective unconscious, they draw from there information that is available to everyone, but at the subconscious level.
That is, poets only speak louder and clearer what everyone already knows. (Isn't that why our empathy for the feelings and thoughts of the author arises, even to such an extent that it seems to us that we could say the same way ?!) Jung noted that some literary prophecies strikingly coincide with the laws of human movement.
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But the most profound and direct impact on readers is exerted by those works, the creators of which were able to raise to the level of consciousness and already in it express the "surface layer of the collective unconscious."
It is not given to us to predict
How will our word respond …
So Fyodor Tyutchev said back in the 19th century. But it is still unclear whether poets have the abilities of a medium, or whether the word itself printed or spoken affects the future. However, at all times, as Evgeny Yevtushenko aptly put it, "A poet in Russia is more than a poet." He is not just a poet, but a prophet called "to burn the hearts of people with a verb."
Lermontov, a descendant of Lermont
Almost a century before the most terrible tragedy in the history of our country, Mikhail Lermontov wrote:
The year will come, Russia is a black year, When the kings' crown falls;
The rabble will forget their former love, And the food of many will be death and blood;
When children, when innocent wives
The overthrown will not protect the law …
This insight happened long before the murder of the Russian emperor and his family, the horrors of the Civil War and mass repressions.
The poet also foresaw his own death. The poem "Dream" begins like this:
Half-day heat in the Dagestan valley
I lay motionless with lead in my chest …
This dream turned out to be prophetic: less than a year later, Lermontov was killed in a duel in Pyatigorsk.
The poet's contemporaries testify that he had a presentiment of his death, spoke a lot about it before leaving for the Caucasus. Lermontov, as it were, attracted death, desired it. What otherworldly force made him turn to Pyatigorsk instead of moving to his destination, a regiment?
When his companion Alexei Stolypin tried to resist the poet's desire to change the route, Lermontov suggested casting lots - and was happy, like a boy, when he won. And in Pyatigorsk, he so purposefully pursued and bullied his former classmate Nikolai Martynov that there is no doubt that the poet deliberately sought his own death.
Rock gravitated over him from both his father and mother. Lermontov's grandfather, Mikhail Arsenyev, without waiting for his mistress on New Year's Eve, drank a glass of "some rubbish" and died. The poet's grandmother Elizaveta Arsenyeva found in her grandson a striking resemblance to his grandfather.
Father, Yuri Petrovich, after the death of his wife, of which he was guilty, drank himself to death and died 44 years old. And about the poet himself, the midwife, who gave birth to his mother, said by some signs known only to her that this boy would not die a natural death.
Both the prophetic gift of Mikhail Lermontov and his ancestral karma can be explained if his ancestor is indeed the legendary poet, singer, musician and seer of the second half of the 13th century, Thomas Lermont, nicknamed the Rhymer.
He lived in the southeast of Scotland and became famous under King Alexander III as an unsurpassed bard and soothsayer. His predictions, many of which were fulfilled, have survived to this day.
There is a beautiful legend that the queen of the elves, his beloved, was awarded the prophetic gift of Thomas for her faithful service to her for seven years. All this time, being in Elflandia, he remained silent, but after returning to the world of people, everything that his mouth spoke was pure truth. And when the time came to leave this world, Thomas returned to his queen.
Everything would be fine, but not everyone liked Thomas's prophecies. Once he predicted to Count Kuimin, who called him a liar, that he would fall from his horse, break his neck and the dogs would gnaw his bones. It soon happened. But one of the count's confidants, a mighty sorcerer, cursed the Lermont family. And six centuries later, the curse overtook Mikhail.
I live for the last time
Anna Akhmatova foresaw not only her earthly, but also her posthumous fate. "But I warn you, / That I live for the last time," she wrote.
This brilliant insight is fully consistent with the theory put forward by the Danish philosopher and parapsychologist Frederik Björnsen. He believes that the spirits of the dead are kept on Earth by our memory, our ideas about them.
Remembering a relative who has left us, getting to know the life, deeds and work of famous people in history, literature and other school disciplines, reading books, watching films, conducting "cultural" conversations, we seem to resurrect them from oblivion, draw them to ourselves - and thereby we do not allow to prepare for a new incarnation.
The energetic essence, an immortal component called the soul, is doomed to wander in our world (and possibly in other worlds) until the name of the one in whose body it was in its last incarnation is forgotten.
If we are talking about an ordinary person who is known and remembered by a limited circle of friends, acquaintances, relatives in two or three generations, this period of wandering in the image of the spirit will be relatively short - a maximum of one and a half centuries. But if you are famous, if you inscribed your name in the history of mankind, you will be your spirit until the end of time, more precisely, until the end of our civilization. This is the price of fame.
During her lifetime, many considered Anna Akhmatova to be clairvoyant. Osip Mandelstam even called her Cassandra. One of her poems contains the following lines:
I called death dear
And they died one after another.
Oh woe to me! These graves
Foretold by my word.
In 1921, in a train carriage, Akhmatova wrote a poem "You will not be alive …". A few days later, her husband, the poet Nikolai Gumilyov, was shot. After that, some of the things that came to her from above, Akhmatova was simply afraid to write down, because she knew that words are material, a word is an action.
Epiphany night of Nikolai Rubtsov
Nikolai Rubtsov predicted his death with amazing accuracy. "I will die in Epiphany frosts …" - he wrote in his "Elegy". And so it came true. In 1969, he began an affair with the poet Lyudmila Derbina. Both were creative individuals with very difficult personalities.
Their relationship developed nervously, unevenly. They converged and diverged. And yet they were attracted to each other by some irresistible force. As it turned out - dark, evil. On the night of January 19, that is, on Epiphany, a drunken quarrel broke out between the lovers, during which Derbina strangled Rubtsov.
In general, Rubtsov was a very suspicious person. His fellow students at the M. Gorky Literary Institute said that one day Nikolai decided to tell fortunes in a very unusual way. He brought a pack of black carbon copies to the dormitory, folded airplanes from the sheets and began to launch them through the window one by one, mentioning the names of his comrades.
The first flew several tens of meters and smoothly descended into the snow-covered alley. And when Rubtsov launched his airplane, a sudden gust of wind caught it, threw it up, and then sharply threw it to the ground. After that, Nikolai walked gloomy and depressed for a whole week. Apparently, you can't escape fate.