Anatoly Balyayev

Anatoly Balyaev at work

Anatoly (Nikolayevich) Balyaev, "Abbe" (born April 27, 1972) — a professional Nizhny Novgorod manager in the field of information technology. Also an amateur translator and literary editor of books on psychology and modern business, a writer of fairy tales, a coach, and an NLP trainer.

The Essence of the Phenomenon

A propagandist of spirituality without interrupting his day job.

Details

Education

School No. 54, Nizhny Novgorod. 1979–1989, graduating class: 10 "B"

NSTU, Nizhny Novgorod. Faculty of the Institute of Radio Electronics and Information Technologies, 1989–1994, "Circuit and Signal Theory," specialization — Radio Engineer.

Certified NLP Practitioner (from 2003 — Nizhny Novgorod NLP Center. Trainers: Alexander and Natalya Mikheyev, Andrey Koenig), NLP Master (NLP Master from 2004 — Moscow NLP Center. Trainers: Tatyana Muzhitskaya, Vyacheslav Zakharov, Andrey Koenig), and NLP Trainer of specialized courses. Completed training at the Institute of Group and Family Psychology and Psychotherapy, the NLP in Education Center under the direction of A. A. Pligin, the Moscow NLP Center, and the Nizhny Novgorod NLP Center.

Autobiography

Anatoly Nikolayevich Balyaev was born in 1972 into a family with a father who was a driver and a mother who was an accountant. He grew up as an obedient, well-mannered boy. At school he received only good and excellent grades and served as chairman of the pioneer council. In 1989, Balyaev enrolled at the Nizhny Novgorod Polytechnic Institute, faculty of radio electronics and technical cybernetics. In 1994, Anatoly Nikolayevich graduated from the Polytechnic with a degree in radio engineering, which he never once found useful. But higher education itself gave Anatoly Nikolayevich a great deal. He became a person.

To date, Anatoly Nikolayevich Balyaev has a 10-year career in information technology and a five-year career in psychological counseling and coaching behind him. At present, Anatoly Balyaev is popularizing ideas of the evolution of consciousness through the framework of Ken Wilber's integral philosophy and Clare Graves's Spiral Dynamics.

Anatoly Nikolayevich Balyaev plans to live to around 93–94 and to die in a clear state of consciousness.

Lifestyle

Relationship status: 17 years of common-law marriage

Sexual orientation: love for a woman

Smoking: quit

Alcohol consumption: very infrequently. but vodka.

Children: a son, starting school soon

Education: higher

Ethnicity: Russian

Build: should probably shed a few pounds already...

Height: average

Religion: believer outside the Church

Characteristic Sayings

There is no man but man, and man is his own prophet.

What matters is to feel whether, through action or inaction, you can now support the harmony of the natural course of things.

Sometimes thinking about nothing is the best way to think about something.

The moment you see a hole through which the soul might escape, go right ahead and plug it with a book...

Women look in the mirror so often that they sometimes become completely incapable of seeing themselves from the outside.

No amount of talk about God will bring him any closer than he already is.

We were born to tell a fairy tale apart from real life.

Résumé

trainer-consultant

Training work began in 2003. Corporate and educational seminars and trainings in the development of communication and professional skills, personal development trainings. Methods employed include NLP, Ericksonian hypnosis, fairy-tale therapy, Hellinger constellations, psychoanalysis, transactional analysis, Gestalt therapy, and transpersonal psychology. Core competencies: identifying and activating additional degrees of freedom in individual and collective human systems; systemic, multi-factor analysis and implementation of change in human systems; conscious and responsible manipulation of consciousness; effective goal-setting, time management. Long-standing collaboration with the Moscow and Nizhny Novgorod NLP Centers, the Center for Psychology and Development (Samara), and the Career and Business Development Center (Togliatti). My teachers: Frank Pucelik (USA), Mikhail Ginzburg, Andrey Pligin, Alexander Gerasimov, Andrey Koenig, Tatyana Muzhitskaya, Vyacheslav Zakharov, Gleb Arkhangelsky.

writer

Author and creator of Russia's first dedicated internet resource on Spiral Dynamics; editor and translator of the book Spiral Dynamics. Popularizer of Ken Wilber's integral approach and active participant in the integral community. Author of numerous popular articles on the specifics of interpersonal communication during periods of crisis and transition in personal development. Author of numerous purposeful transformational stories for children and adults.

blogger

Nine years of blogging on LiveJournal. Creator of several thematic communities on LJ and on popular social networks. Areas of interest: marketing in blogs and social networks; informal, viral promotion of ideas and products.

project manager

Managing several projects in the field of information technology. Areas of interest: automation of complex business processes; creating online spaces for targeted communities; augmented reality.

Interesting Facts

Anatoly Nikolayevich Balyaev plans to live to around 93–94 and to die in a clear state of consciousness.

Output

Sample Story

The story was published in the journal NLP Herald No. 13.

''My son fell ill. Everything that a plain dad could do, I did. What can a dad-who-is-also-a-trainer do? Make up and tell a fairy tale! While I was telling Nazarka what I was making up as I went, he would listen, then doze quietly, breathing softly. The fairy tale (in fact, even two of them) turned out unexpectedly interesting, but a little rough around the edges in terms of content ("old stump" carries a culturally amusing ring to it, but still...). I don't particularly want to "smooth it over" — I'll write it as it was (fortunately, my son felt better in the morning), almost in the original impromptu wording. I don't think the fairy tale turned out to be only for children. I thought a lot about why everything in it is the way it is, trying to understand it as a dream or as someone else's words. While the fairy tale was being made up, I simply let the words flow. Only afterward did some part of me realize how curiously it all came out. My beloved was also listening, sitting beside me. And here is what came of it...''

How the Lion Cub Learned to Get Better

Once upon a time there was a little lion cub. The lion cub had a mother and a father. The lion cub loved to play with toy cars, balls, and a rocket. His mother and father, who loved him very much, read books to him and took him for walks in a great big forest.

Once upon a time, a little lion cub fell ill. He lost all desire to play and simply lay there, occasionally whimpering softly. His mother and father never left his side. The little lion cub hated being sick and wanted to get well as quickly as possible so he could play with his mom and dad and his favorite toys again.

The little lion cub often felt sleepy. One day he dozed off, and he had a dream about what he loved most in the world — walking through the forest. Trees stood all around him, grass rustled softly underfoot, birds sang somewhere nearby — it was a warm, sunny day. In his dream the lion cub felt good. He suddenly thought how wonderful it would be to find some healing herb, or leaves from a healing tree, or perhaps even a healing stream. Then he could eat the herb, nibble a leaf, drink from the stream — and get well. But the little lion cub did not know which herb to eat, which leaf to nibble, or which stream to drink from, because he was still very young. The lion cub grew sad in his dream and wished with all his heart that someone would come along to teach him how to choose the right healing herbs, leaves, and streams.

Just then he stepped out onto a wide clearing and saw, right at its center, a large old stump. The stump was so enormous that the lion cub wanted to get a closer look. He ran up to it, walked all the way around it, and — hop, hop — jumped up on top. The top of the old stump was perfectly flat. The lion cub enjoyed running from edge to edge of the big round surface. When he had run his fill, he lay down in the middle, curled up in a ball to rest. The warm sun shone down on him, and he felt cozy and content. And then he felt — felt, rather than heard — someone calling to him: "Lion cub! Lion cub!" "Who is calling me?" asked the lion cub. "It is I, the old stump — I want to have a little chat with you." The lion cub was not the least bit frightened — he was bold and brave — and agreed to have a chat with the old stump. And this is what the old stump told the lion cub:

"I have lived for a very long time, lion cub. So long that time no longer matters to me. I was the first tree in this forest. Once upon a time there was nothing here but a wide, wide field where only grass grew. Then the wind carried a tiny seed — me — to the middle of that field. At first I sprouted as two little leaves, barely visible among the grass. Then I grew taller and taller and became a small tree standing alone in the middle of the wide field. Growing upward was sometimes very hard, lion cub. Rainstorms drenched me, strong winds blew, but I held on to the earth with my roots and kept growing, drawing strength from the sun and the soil. Then seeds, which the wind so often carries, began to catch in my leaves and fall nearby. They sprouted as tiny leaves. I would look down at them from above and rejoice. My roots intertwined with their rootlets — that was how we got to know one another, talked, and became friends. Gradually many little trees began to sprout around me, and I sheltered and protected them as best I could. Before long all manner of small creatures came to live in our little wood, burrowing their dens among my roots, and I knew how they lived and what they lived on, and talked with them. That is how the forest in which you live grew, lion cub. My roots — the roots of the very first tree — spread beneath this entire forest. I remember every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass that ever grew here. And I know all the creatures who have lived here, who often spoke with me and shared their secrets, while I told them what they wished to know. I told the squirrel where the tastiest nuts grow, I told the little bird where to find twigs for her nest, I explained to the fox how to make her tail nice and fluffy, I showed the little hare the most succulent roots, I told the little bear cub about the places where the sweetest berries grow. I remember and love them all, for I was the first tree in this forest.

Then one day I noticed that I had grown so enormous that the trees growing beneath me could not receive enough light. A large clearing had formed around me where nothing could grow except green grass. I felt very sorry that my shade was harming my own forest. And so I decided to speak with the wind, the very wind that had carried me here and had rustled my leaves ever since. I asked what I should do so as not to block the sun from my beloved forest. The wind came and said to me: "I remember you. I have lived for a very long time, little seed. So long that time no longer matters to me." I do not know how long we talked, but I suddenly understood something more important than anything important, at the moment I could no longer tell whether the wind was moving my leaves or my leaves were moving the air, creating what I had thought of as the wind.

And on one wonderful day I asked the little creatures to bring me as many different seeds as they could find. And then I simply became the wind, carrying many seeds with me to set them down wherever a new forest might grow. And in the clearing where I had stood, there remained this large, old, wise stump, which is now telling you this story, my little lion cub…"

The lion cub fell quiet, and they sat in silence for a while, listening to the soft murmur of the forest all around. Then the lion cub asked: "Dear old stump, do you know which healing herbs grow in the forest, which leaves to nibble in order to get well, and from which streams to drink in order to recover?" "Of course I do," answered the old stump. "Every herb is beneficial, every leaf is healing, and every stream can help you get well. You only need to know when to eat which herb, when to nibble which leaves, and when to drink from which stream. Here is what we shall do, my little lion cub. Lie down on your tummy right in the middle of me and wait. I will listen to how your little heart beats and how your little belly breathes, and I will know what to advise you, all right?" "All right," said the lion cub, and he lay down on his tummy in the middle of the old stump. He lay there for a while, listening to his breathing and to the beating of his little heart, and sometimes he forgot to listen and thought about something else, or simply thought about nothing at all. After some time the lion cub felt the old stump say: "I have told all the herbs, all the leaves, and all the streams in the forest about you. Now simply run and look carefully — the right herb will show itself to you, and listen carefully too — the right leaves will rustle to you about themselves, and the right stream will babble to you, and you will know that it is exactly what you need."

"Thank you, old stump!" cried the little lion cub and set off running, but suddenly stopped. "How can I thank you afterward, old stump?" "Just get well, little one. If you become healthy, I too will feel good. I have become so much a part of this forest that I can feel all its creatures. I am glad when they are glad, and sad when they are sad. Get well, little lion cub, and grow up big, wise, brave, strong, just, and kind. Then I will be very, very happy. And give my greetings to your mother and father — I once appeared to them in a dream too, and taught them what they asked me to teach them." "Thank you so much, old stump!" called the lion cub, and ran off into the forest.

The little lion cub ran through the forest and suddenly noticed a very, very beautiful little herb. He did not know its name, but it seemed to him that it must be very, very tasty and good for him. And the lion cub ate as much of that herb as he wanted. He ran on and suddenly heard a very special rustling of leaves. He ran up to the tree on which those little leaves grew and understood that these were exactly the leaves he needed to nibble right now — they rustled so sweetly above him. The lion cub leaped up and nibbled as many leaves as he wanted. Then he ran in the direction where streams flowed. And once again, one of them babbled more cheerfully and clearly than the rest. The little lion cub tasted it: the water from this stream was very, very delicious, and the lion cub drank as much as he wanted. The lion cub was certain that he would always be able to find in the forest whatever he needed.

And now he also knew that in this world everything — absolutely everything — is exactly as it should be.

Then he ran home, and the moment he saw his cave, he woke up inside it. Mother and Father were right there beside him. The lion cub told them his dream. Mother and Father smiled and told him that the little lion cub was no longer quite as little as he had been yesterday, because he had met in his dream the old wise stump, who had taught him to seek healing herbs, leaves, and streams in the forest. Long ago, when Mother and Father were small, they too had dreamed of the old stump, and they have remembered that dream all their lives. In that dream they came to know the great forest, learned to live in it, and discovered that the forest holds many useful things — you need only look carefully and listen closely. The lion cub was overjoyed, because he already felt better and because Mother and Father were so happy when he passed along the old stump's greetings.

And that is the story that happened to a little lion cub in a great, vast forest.

A Provocative Tale

What do you dream of, cruiser Aurora?

A provocative tale for women who are "waiting."

The Dead Tsarevna lies very beautifully in a crystal coffin. Her makeup, her gown, her surroundings are radiantly flawless. Every condition for his arrival has been met. She is waiting.

Her thoughts are of the Tsarevich. Must he himself be radiantly flawless? Good Lord! After such a long wait? Not necessarily! The Tsarevna is not only beautiful — she is also fabulously clever; she knows that every person has a soul, you only have to see it. And besides, she has prepared herself so thoroughly that it would simply be unjust if he were to turn out somehow not quite right. Somebody has to keep watch over something! Faith in a higher justice — that is what the Dead Tsarevna has left. Therefore everything that can be done has been done, and all that remains is to wait. Without questions. With a constant faint smile on her lips — what if the Tsarevich should creep up unnoticed?

Actually, there is one mandatory requirement for the Tsarevich after all. He is obliged to be alive. It is unknown how long the rehabilitation period after the kiss will take. It is unknown whether there will be relapses. The Tsarevich will have to court the Tsarevna in some fashion, persuade her, coax her back to life. Could there be cause for concern here? There could. What if he comes, kisses her, and drops dead himself? To prevent this, he must be not merely alive but more alive than anyone! His life force must be enough for the two of them. It must overflow, positively splash over the brim. The clever Tsarevna thinks ahead, devising ways to protect herself from the energetic solar flares of the necessarily most-alive Tsarevich.

And can you imagine what a predicament? Don't wake up too soon! What if there's a noise, or a breeze, or a sunbeam, or her thoughts start spinning a little too lively? She'll wake up — and no Tsarevich! What to do, where to go, whom to call? And what if that nightmare with the seven dwarves repeats itself? So she must lie as still as possible and drive away both dark thoughts and bright ones.

It's just that… sometimes the Tsarevna has a nightmare. About how she seems to be a great iron vessel with a terrible fate. Once, she apparently let loose with all her broadside cannons, and an age of wars, destruction, and many injustices began. And throughout that troubled time she stood motionless and menacingly in one and the same place, while her energetic Tsareviches carried on a flurry of activity. And one of them was the most alive of all. More alive than anyone. But even that could not save him — in the end he wound up in a crystal coffin, and none of those who came to his cave wished to kiss him…

After such nightmares the Tsarevna could not calm herself for a long time, and lay frozen, waiting for that vile, entirely uncharacteristic feeling of aggression to pass. Then, of course, everything would settle back into its former beautiful stillness.

The Dead Tsarevna lies in her crystal coffin. She does not even urinate, and — well, naturally — does not defecate. She waits.

Let us wish her luck and a peaceful sleep.

Let us wish all Tsareviches never to stumble upon crystal coffins. Or at least to have an aspen stake on their person.