A longtime WN activist in Australia, who previously lost the love of his life, a very Aryan-looking and pretty girl, to hard drugs, wrote me [photos, comments and notes added by me]:
John, I went and visited an old friend today whom I had not seem for about five years. He was at the back of his unit tending his avocado plants that are doing very well (unusual for our souther Australian climate, as they do best up in Queensland). It was depressing as he reminded me of that bloke with spectacles in [ theÂ movie] Papillon who just gives in without a fight and refuses to join in Papillon’s escape efforts.
This was a top movie in 1973 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papillon_%28film%29 and based loosely on a true story of the prisoner Henri CharriÃ¨re, nicknamed “Papillon” [ in French, “the butterfly”]. He is a lowlife and a safecracker who was however framed for murder and sentenced to life on Devil’s Island in 1931 in French Guyana.Â Steve McQueen plays the courageous CharriÃ©re, who escapes for good in 1945, and Duston Hoffman an (appropriately) Jewish-acting forger and former banker, Louis Degas, who cowardly stays behind.
If you remember, John, Degas is seen towards the end of the movie, tending his garden on Devil’s Island, content to remain a prisoner for the rest of his life.
Degas is a loyal friend and can be kind, but in the end he proves a wretched coward.
The moment of decision: CharriÃ¨re (McQueen) and Degas (Hoffman) both have their lashed-coconut rafts ready so they can drift away from the island. Now they either throw their rafts off the steep cliff into the sea and jump in after them, “going for it,” or one of both “chicken outs” and stays for the rest of their life on the wretched prison island. (No return to France was ever permitted, even after completing the sentence.)
Degas has told CharriÃ¨re he fears death in the rocks, sharks and water, and will not go. CharriÃ¨re hugs him and says goodbye.
Then CharriÃ¨re leaps off the cliff into the ocean, (Steve McQueen, as so often, really did this stunt himself.)
That is just what is happening to my old friend [despair]. I don’t hold out much hope for him because he just takes whatever [psych meds] the shrinks dished out. He also drinks a lot and I suspect is an alcoholic. It put a real dampener on my day and combined with the hopeless romantic situation I face has put me down in the dumps.
I saw the most beautiful young girl yesterday on my way back from a walk with the dog. I was approaching a council shelter next to a park that has a see-through metal screen behind the seat upon which she was sitting. And although I could only see her from behind the screen as I approached, I just sensed or knew she was drop-dead gorgeous, a bit like A., of whom I sent you a picture and told you about.
All I could see was her long hair.
As I passed her (she was sitting to my left) I turned to look at her and, sure enough, an absolute angel was looking back at me. You know, the sort who take your breath away, but with the saddest eyes I have ever seen. She must have been no more than 21.
I just said “I could tell you were a looker,” and left it at that. Oh well, maybe I should have said something such as “your eyes remind me of mine.” Or “why do you look so sad?”
I hope I shall see her again but if the pederasts have got to her there is no hope anyway that means she is damaged beyond repair. They always prey on the most beautiful. As William Blake said “just as the caterpillar lays its eggs on the choicest leafs, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.’
I am feeling damn rotten and depressed, John,Â despite that car I just bought.
I feel for you. The Germans call it Weltschmerz, that is, “world pain”/(“smarting “). This is Planet Pain.
But why? Because the souls of cowardly, selfish and foolish people are sentenced here. In many incarnations we have let the battle against evil slide and now the evil is in full, hideous bloom.
The secret motto of 90% of earthlings:
“I sure hope SOMEONE ELSE does something about the Jews!”
(Logical next weasel-out: “”I sure hope SOMEONE ELSE donatesÂ to these anti-Jew activists who are risking everything, people like
John de Nugent
TT is the vital, jew-free video platform that by its very existence as a rival (now 32,000 videos) prevents YouTube from deleting all exposÃ©s of all NWO topics. TruTube now has an easy donate button! I tried it; it works in 60 seconds! I sent him $91.97, and it also kept my credit card data — so I do not need to enter it all again for the next donation!
The Rebel of Oz
If you have never sent one dollar, pound or euro to these men (or performed, either cheap or free, some needed service), then are you surprised God put you on a planet like this? Sorry, but you really belong here! 😉 — with all the other slackers who expect someone else to do both their duty and yours, making all the sacrifices so you can make none! (No, sharing a WN video with other WNs, or clicking “like,” is really not that much of a sacrifice. 😉 Esp. when that video cost dozens of hours and maybe hundreds or thousands of dollars to make, and the person who produced it is risking everything: career, health, freedom and even his life.
You can’t afford to send one dollar, one pound or one euro? Really? You must think God is some senile old fool, and me too. 😉 But maybe God is a kickass who sees right through your pitiful bullshit. (See the translation further below.)
I like this video, which I just uploaded to TruTube; both because it shows the beauty of our white women, but also because the morphing action to me suggests how we reincarnate over and over until we learn life’s lessons; such as to be brave, giving and smart; not cowardly, stingy and delude ourselves. Two minutes of beauty: https://trutube.tv/video/32360/500-morphing-faces-of-white-women-throughout-art-history-RestaurArs-video
….The hard science behind reincarnation realityÂ
What did the greatest American general in WWII, George Patton [photo], automaker Henry Ford, Founding Father Ben Franklin, the great conqueror Napoleon, Adolf Hitler, the founder of philosophy, Plato, the world-roaming Vikings, and the great brahmins of Aryan India understand that you do not yet grasp?
When you die, you simply abandon your non-functioning body; you see it lying there dead. Your soul is taken and processed in a systematic way… to ready you for another life and to learn more lessons. It is no Baby-Jesus fantasy, and no man dying on a cross (however heroic) will change your character for you. Karma and reincarnation are tough-love procedures.
The bottom line is you are not really dead for even one single second. Â You just take off a body — as you take off a glove enclosing your hand!
There is no reason to fear death, but there is every reason to fear getting a terrible karma! Cosmic payback for a cowardly, selfish and foolish life! And only you can change that reality, not Jesus, or a bottle of beer! 😉
…..The Spiritual World
I hae been translating this book and it is nearly done. Here are the first five chapters on what really happens when you die.
The Spiritual World
Chapter 1 Dead â€“ and Now? 4
Chapter 2 The Celestial Court 8
Chapter 3 Introduction to the Hereafter 14
Chapter 4 The Death of Semor Ethirion 19
Chapter 5 The Life Hereafter 25
Chapter 6 The Call 30
Chapter 7 Poseidonis V / New York 36
Chapter 8 Good and Evil 43
Chapter 9 Penal Colony Earth 49
Chapter 10 Suicide 54
Chapter 11 Karma 62
Chapter 12 Ghosts in the Land of Eternal Haze 66
Chapter 13 The Origin of Eleuloria 69
Chapter 14 Heavenly Eonata 76
Chapter 15 Army of the Missionaries 83
Chapter 16 Levels of the Beyond 90
Chapter 17 Sexes in Afterlife 107
Chapter 18 The Creative Power 109
Chapter 19 The Spirit inside of Matter 117
Chapter 20 Evolution 122
Chapter 21 The Potential of Man 133
Chapter 22 The Earth 141
Chapter 23 Iron and Golden Ages 152
Chapter 24 Religion 158
Chapter 25 Ascension 169
Chapter 26 The new Shamans 176
Chapter 27 Creator and Creation 178
Chapter 28 The Free Will 191
Chapter 29 An Example of a Curriculum Vitae 195
Chapter 30 Soul Mission 201
Chapter 31 Educational Objects 209
Chapter 32 Good and Evil, Part 2 218
Chapter 33 Coming Home 221
Chapter 34 The Laws of Ethics 229
Chapter 35 Realignment and Remorse 235
Chapter 36 Reincarnation 240
Chapter 37 A Summary 245
Chapter 38 Bibliography 249
Dead â€“ and Now?
Let’s not waste words: You’ve just died â€“ that’s all. For your peace of mind: This is not Hollywood, so there’s no explosion, no mangled body. It is a clean cardiac arrest, and you don’t have to worry about the neighbors either; you will be found in half an hour and hygienically removed. It was also quite painless; I’m not a monster … well almost painless, anyway. The stabbing sensation in your chest I cannot spare you, not even the desperate struggle for breath, but these lasted only a few seconds. So now you know you are dead. Also your former body is still lying around, pretty useless.
Yes, and now? If an emergency crew were here, of course, they would try everything from injection plus heart massage to the electric paddles that work so well on TV. Unfortunately, no one is here, so please stay dead. Do not run around as a corpse; no one except a few Satanists really likes zombies.
If you like, you can now roam around a bit without a body. Admittedly it’s a waste of time, but you’re no longer in a hurry, right? You can check, for example, what your kids are doing now. A single thought, an intense desire, will take you there. Without a body to drag around, it’s quite simple. Take leave of your relatives peacefully, If you like. Of course, they cannot see or hear you, but you can still send them good wishes. Feel free to see what happened in the Classy Mares Club… Only you won’t get anything out of this voyeurism now, because you do not have the hormones and the organs to do so.
What you also missing is a sense that you will be staying. You already know the world anyway, so why should you still want to roam around? You can’t change anything anyway. Moreover, you are expected in court, before the Celestial Court There it is not about citations for parking in the second row in front of the fire exit, nor about how many times you were in church on Sundays, but the really important things â€“ your whole life and how you feel about that life.
You will then be picked up. If you yourself do not name someone, the Afterlife will send a messenger to you. This could be a good friend, your grandmother, your sister … There are people who want to be picked up by Abraham, Jesus Christ or Buddha personally. Oh yes, that’s possible. At any rate, the messenger looks the way you imagine your own personal superstar to be. It is the person in whom you feel the most confidence. Politicians are very rarely called for.
But before my publisher gets upset, I’d better let you return to life. If my readers die right on the first page, I won’t sell many books, so the publishing house would prefer that I kill Mr. Ernest Woodward, who has never bought a book from me and won’t want to in the future, either. No, no, this is not the Ernest Woodward, you know, but a completely different one. Honest.
Ernest Woodward lived a full life. If he had been a politician, he could easily have had a 3,000-page autobiography written about himself. Of course, it would say in it that our friend Ernest was always right and always knew best about everything, while the others were all idiots; that’s how it usually is with celebrity biographies.
Mr. Woodward’s soul is now a little intimidated by, and wonders why, after so many decades of loyal service, this body is no longer willing to accommodate him. He wonders this until he notices the bright light. This light is so bright that all other awareness fades next to it, yet it is neither intrusive nor painful, but warm and enticing.
Ernest Woodward stands before the Celestial Court; he is now led through his life. It passes before him at an accelerated pace; the important events penetrate his consciousness. And you’ll even be shown just a few of them. Or do you really want to read 3,000 pages from the life of a complete stranger?
Mr. Woodward is surprised that his surroundings have faded. He finds himself in new surroundings, holding a hamster from his childhood days in his hand; he has inserted himself like a living motor in a custom-built car. Ernest Woodward is in the midst of the scene, sees himself act, feels the small creature in his hand, its skin, the warmth of its body … and he feels the fear and uncertainty experienced by the small hamster.
Ernest Woodward feels pity for the animal. (0.00 => +0.03)
Mr. Woodward relives an experience on the way home from school. He is in the midst of the action but is passive, and cannot change the course of events. His classmate Barry Bigelow has been waiting for him, mutual insults are quickly exchanged, then fists fly. Ernest gets the upper hand, sits on Barry, hits him repeatedly in the face, until the loser begins to cry. Ernest feels not only the physical pain he inflicts on the other, but also the humiliation that the victim undergoes.
Sheena Longtree, the consolation prize … Ernest had gone out with her only because Ashley Madrell had rejected him. Even when he had slept with Sheena, he had thought of Ashley. And now, now he had finally ended up with Ashley! He sees Sheena, observes how she looks over at them, jealous and angry. He can feel her anguish, the sadness, the hopelessness.
Stupid cow, she should have known that she was just the consolation prize â€“ she always was, after all. (-0,27 => -0,44)
â€œErnest, you’re going to… We’re having a baby!â€
â€œA baby? But …â€ Ernest Woodward’s thoughts tumble over each other. A hundred benefits and disadvantages crowd into his consciousness. He can’t think straight.
â€œYou … aren’t you glad?â€
Ernest feels the fear in Doreen, her concern for the future. He takes a deep breath. â€œThen we’ll get married, so my son will grow up in a regular family!â€
Ernest has never regretted his decision, although at the time he was ambushed by her revelation. Doreen … He enjoys the happy feelings. (-0.13 => +0.12)
Ernest feels pride. He had struggled with his masterpiece and given the best of which he was capable. (0.08 => 0.08)
Carpenter Woodward presents an invoice. Quite as a matter of course he adds on two extra half hours. He feels his clients’ anger of on account of the increase, but at the same time their reluctance to turn to an expert or a lawyer because of this relatively small amount.
They all do it. If I donâ€™t cheat a little, the taxes eat me up. (0.01 => -0.09)
His whole life rushes past Ernest Woodward. He lives every single scene, and in them not only what he himself thought and felt with his senses, but also everything that people or animals who were affected by his actions felt. Now, often decades later, he thinks differently about some thing. What appeared at that time incredibly important is today, with the wisdom of age and the distance in time, often completely irrelevant. But many things he would now do again, with the same conviction as at the time he actually made the decision. Yes, that was his life, the life of Ernest Woodward. He stands by it and regrets very little. His life is over, he experiences himself dying. Yes, Ernest Woodward is dead, or rather, the man who was Ernest Woodward. His life, his existence, continues here in this strange place.
Mr. Woodward finds himself in the light again and becomes aware of a shadowy figure who seems familiar to him. He feels for the first time in his life an enveloping love, a physical sense of being welcomed. He walks closer and recognizes in this figure his own mother, not old and haggard, as he had seen her on her death bed, but as the strong, loving woman she had been in his childhood. Yes, even more, beautiful and spotless, without any of the wounds which life had already at that time bequeathed to her.
The mother welcomes Ernest; it is a private greeting, which convinces the son that he really is with his mother.
Finally, he asks the most important question: â€œWhat happens now?â€
â€œErnest, you’ve already gone through the Celestial Court â€“ it seems to last forever, but it was only a few seconds. You completed it successfully and may come with me. I was afraid a little … after all, you were not always just my dear little boy.â€
His mother hugs him. â€œNo, my boy. Oh those places really exist, but you will go with me to Eleuloria, to Newburgh. You’ll get a house there and a new workshop …â€
â€œEleuloria? What is this country? And why a workshop? Do I have to work around here? I’m dead, right?â€
His mother smiles knowingly. At this second, the environment changes. They are now facing a detached home, like dozens that might be found in every American village and suburb.
â€œEleuloria is the middle kingdom here in the afterlife, halfway between heaven and hell. You donâ€™t have to work, but it helps you acclimatize here. It’s almost like on Earth.â€
â€œYes, but … but …â€
His mother puts her finger to her lips. â€œLet us go in first, right? Of course you have many questions, probably more than I can answer. First get used to your new surroundings, then you can talk to the Rabbi.â€
â€œWith the Rabbi?â€ marvels Mr. Woodward, to whom the house appears more and more familiar because it resembles more and more the one he had owned on Earth.
â€œSo far no Catholic priest has made it to Newburgh. Perhaps all of them go to a higher level? Once a year the Bishop from Chattanooga comes to us …â€
â€œChattanooga has a bishop?â€ Marvels Mr. Woodward.
â€œHere it doesâ€ replies his mother.
The Celestial Court
What Mr. Woodward experienced before he entered the afterlife was a hearing before the Celestial Court. The Egyptians described it in their Book of the Dead as an encounter with the god Anubis, who weighed the heart of the dead person on a scale. In addition there was a litany of 52 sins that one was supposed to recite, declaring after each that one had not committed it. A small desert people, by the way, copied down a few of them, now so well known as the â€œTenâ€ Commandments.
The Great Litany, at that time, the priests diligently practiced with their faithful â€“ in return, of course, for a few offerings. The Ten Commandments, also incorporated into Christianity, can be found free on the Internet. What is in them are things that decency and a good upbringing demand; nobody needs a priest for that. They are observed, anyway, except when overriding â€œnationalâ€ interests intervene.
At the Celestial Court you will not meet Anubis, but a much more ruthless entity: yourself. Mr. Woodward has experienced himself as an observer, in the most perfect movie that you can imagine, since it not only makes use of the eyes and ears, but embraces all the senses and transports the viewer into the role of the protagonist. But it is nevertheless â€žcinema,â€œ as the scenes depicted follow a â€žscript,â€œ according to what actually transpired in life.
Mr. Woodward, as a viewer, could no longer alter an event, but he could evaluate the event. As a child he used the hamster as a motor and probably felt happy that it actually worked. It didnâ€™t occur to the child that it was torturing the little animal by doing so â€“ the dead, adult Ernest Woodward grasped this and regretted it. Or, to use the correct term, he has shown remorse.
It is this value that determines whether you go to â€žheavenâ€œ or must enter â€žhellâ€œ. The 0.00 is neutral, equidistant from both.
I have reduced the values to a single dimension, and I have scaled these also. +100 is the highest value that a human can reach, Absolute Good, or â€žHeavenâ€œ, while -100 is abysmally bad, or simply â€žHellâ€œ. I chose these values because they are universal and easy to understand, not because they are actually used this way on the other side.
The Hereafter can be classified according to several dimensions, dimensions such as love, honesty or peacefulness. Such a dimension can have values of 1:00 to 12:00 or from -20 000 to +65,000. Just imagine: I could present a long series of numbers and each with its own range. Nothing would be gained by that; it would indeed appear mathematical or physical, but would only cause confusion in readers. Therefore, I limit myself to a single scale, with -100 for evil and +100 for good, and sort all the souls according to it.
We humans live in an analog world in which transitions are fluid, but we happily scale them as if they were digital. We look at the speedometer and read 55 miles an hour, from which we see that we have nothing to fear from the little green men with their UFO’s (Unwanted Flashing Objects). In fact, we are driving this very second at 53.738 miles an hour and a second later at 53.741 miles an hour, but this refined scale would bring us no benefit in daily traffic.
I will the decimal places use only here in the Celestial Court, because this is about those little nuances. The good deeds and sincere repentance of Mr. Woodward have increased his value a little, the evil deeds and his stubbornness lowered it. In some scenes, the value remained unchanged.
The Celestial Court is a complete court, with all that belongs in a courtroom. However, there is one important respect in which the Celestial Court is different from all other courts: The verdict which is pronounced here is absolutely fair. You will understand when you see who is involved in this transaction:
Right â€“ that is you. You have just died and have to answer now for your life. Please do not expect that Saint Peter will look up in a large book everything you did in your life. You need not hope, either, that you will have a shyster lawyer at your side so that you can bribe the prosecutor or the judge. Even if you were formerly the richest and most powerful man in the world, here you are weak and destitute. You are alone, all alone in this place.
We have a file about you. A complete file! In it everything is recorded. You, as a five-year old calling the war widow an â€œold witchâ€ and tying an empty sauerkraut can to her catâ€™s tail. At 15, you smoked two cannabis cigarettes, but didnâ€™t like them. At 23 you cheated on two exams and at 25, on your dissertation, an anonymous but very helpful and enthusiastic writing source helped you out, for 10,000 discreetly-paid dollars. At 31 you secretly smeared your boss’s reputation to get his post. You betrayed your wife 183 times before she filed for divorce. And you pretended to be poor in order to lower the child support you had to pay.
OK, Iâ€™ll stop. Weâ€™ll see each other soon, donâ€™t worry; weâ€™ll talk further. But as you can see, we know everything. Absolutely everything. Rest assured, it has been noted. Meticulously and completely. For the trial of your life.
Not Mr. Woodward, now, but you. Everything you know about yourself, even everything you had long forgotten, comes up here before the Celestial Court. There are no secrets; even the most intimate affairs are mercilessly exposed here. Perhaps you are very glad that there is no lawyer here â€“ and no audience. Not even his own mother was present when Mr. Woodward had to appear before the judge.
The judge is not your political-party friend or comrade, nor you do not know him from your fraternity; he is not a lodge brother. The judge doesnâ€™t want any money from you, he does not want to go on your yacht, and he is not interested in a luxury vacation. The judge has only one objective: justice. The judge knows every detail of your case. He is fair, absolutely fair. To you and to everyone else. He does not judge according to ordinary laws, which have established a lobby. His laws have not been introduced for any motives — they do not favor any ethnic group or profession. They are only one thing: fair. Custom-made just for you!
It is not the same justice for everyone, but it is absolutely the most appropriate justice for you, and only you. Even your business partner will be judged for the same crime according to another justice, which for him is the fairest. Not as it appears, but as it IS.
This absolutely fair and incorruptible judge is YOU YOURSELF.
Mr. Woodward was able to evaluate his action in every scene himself, with the comprehensive knowledge of the impact on all involved. The fear of the hamster, the humiliation of the vanquished, the despair of a rejected girlfriend … He has felt everything, and evaluated these, his own actions. Only he himself is relevant, no ethical or political laws. He alone decides how he will adjudicate â€“ and with every ruling he moves up or down the value scale of the hereafter.
â€œIn those few seconds my whole life passed before my eyes.â€ Do you recognize this sentence? Have you read it somewhere? In near-death experiences these â€œlife moviesâ€ are often described. You see your life with all the high points and low points in front of you. And in the end you draw a conclusion. YOU draw this conclusion, because YOU, YOU alone are the accused, the accuser and the judge. You return the verdict, because you know best what you did and why you did it. The sentence takes into account all the facts, all the mitigating and aggravating circumstances. And it is absolutely fair. There is no appeal. The verdict is final. And you yourself are the one who will return this verdict.
It wonâ€™t help if you committed crimes through others, through subordinates or dependents. All you have brought about will fall back onto your shoulders. None of your actions, none of your sins will be forgotten. There is no â€œmagical dayâ€ on which God â€œlooks awayâ€. Whatever YOU know of your mistakes will come to light in this hearing.
What does the sentence entail? Does it mean heaven or hell, or 100 to 100,000 years of purgatory? Yes, but quite different from the way the religions want to teach us. You donâ€™t enter the seventh heaven, as a Muslim, just because you ran around wearing an exploding belt. And you donâ€™t have to roast, as a Catholic, in purgatory, because on Good Friday you tasted strictly forbidden pork.
The sentence is based on the principle that like attracts like. You are assigned a place on the scale, whether in one dimension, as I discussed here, or three or ten dimensions, which the afterlife may actually have. Whoever reaches +100, is a completely different character than one who manages +50, or just -23. â€œGodâ€ does not reward the +100 people and condemn the -100; rather the afterlife will bring you together with other souls who are on at the same stage as you.
Through the Celestial Court â€œFlorence Nightingaleâ€ comes together with â€œMother Theresaâ€. â€œJosef Stalinâ€, in contrast, meets up with â€œPol Potâ€. What would be hell for you is, for the right people, a very ordinary place. Mr. Woodward was allowed after the verdict to be where his mother lives in the hereafter. This only means that he is at the same stage as his mother, no more and no less.
If you die as a liar and deceiver, you end up in an afterlife in which there is lying and cheating. If you were kind and helpful to your fellow man, you come to a spiritual place where all residents are kind and helpful. It happens according to your merit â€“ and according to your will. It is not about â€œheavenâ€ or â€œhellâ€ but equivalents.
You enjoy fighting, and prefer to settle your problems with a baseball bat? Enjoy! You wonâ€™t go to hell and be subject to the most sophisticated methods of torture around the clock, but your Afterlife will be very similar to your life on earth and, actually, the way you prefer it.
One wrong word, a sideways glance â€“ and the fists fly. And of course, teeth … You will be perpetrator and victim, beater, and beaten to the ground. Again and again. For YOU YOURSELF have sentenced yourself to this.
A peaceful man does not encounter thugs in the Afterlife. He does not fit in with them, and therefore he does not go there.
Oh â€“ and bribes are pointless. Even if you leave the church a billion-dollar fortune, it has no influence at the Celestial Court.
For all eternity?
No! You were created to learn and develop. Mistakes you have committed for 20 or 20,000 years will not cling to you for all eternity. Unless you want it that way! If you love the rule of force enough, you will always live under the rule of force, in this world and the next. God will not love you less and will not condemn you. Just settle down, until it gets to be too much for you. But then you have to change. God will not do it for you, no church, no grand and not a servant. You yourself have to do it all alone. They must learn for themselves.
The Celestial Court is just; it will not impose eternal damnation. To some extent, the verdict is on probation. Prove yourself in the place to which you, yourself, have taken yourself, and you will be released for good behavior. Not early, but if and only if you deserve it. In other words, if you have decided to change.
Almost all boys have beaten up others as a child. With age (some people call it â€œmaturityâ€) these conflicts are carried out verbally, or by intrigue, or denunciations … The â€œboyâ€ has grown out of the age of beating, weaned off of swinging his fists. But some may still like to fight after retirement age.
Ask and it shall be given to you
The Catholic Church has the Sacrament of Confession. Superficially, you tell the priest about the bank you robbed. He negotiates with you to put ten percent of the loot in the alms box and say three â€œOur Fathersâ€, and with that your debt to God is paid off.
But if you look closely, there is something called â€œrepentanceâ€. Oh, the priest is a friendly, helpful man who believes your regret. However, you yourself know exactly how much you regret not the deed, but the fact that your haul was only 2,325 bucks…
Repentance is an active change of course. Jesus Christ put it this way, â€œGo and sin no more!â€ You have made a mistake and decided not to repeat this mistake more. You regret this error and it is forgiven you.
Is it really that simple?
Yes, it’s that simple. If you plan to be the neighbor from hell, you will get the neighbors from hell. If you distrust everyone, no one will trust you. Because you do not get what you ask for with your lips, but what you desire in your heart. If you build your earthly life on a big lie, the court will confront your soul in the afterlife with this lie.
The Catholic confession is, for all our human inadequacies, a â€œdivineâ€ act of grace. Beyond the lip service, you first have to confess your wrong, and accept that you did it. You must bring yourself to admit this mistake and you are given an act of penance to do, the requirement to limit or eliminate the damage.
This is all well and proper, and done under the supervision of the Church, but that is no more than an aid. The church did not create the spiritual law that stands behind it. It applies to all people, not only to Catholics.
The rules of the Court of soul are simple:
You will reap what you sow –
and as you judge, you will be judged.
You continue to develop and come together in the afterlife with souls that are on the same stage of their development. This is neither punishment nor reward, but simply justice.
Even as an atheist you can read the Bible. It does not matter whether Jesus for you was or is the Son of God, or if you believe that he has never lived as a person. The Bible is a book of collected wisdom that is well known within Western culture. Therefore, I will occasionally quote from it.
What have you done to the least of your brothers,
you have done to yourself.
In the original it is, â€œ… you have done to ME.â€ But you cannot cuckold Jesus Christ, but only your husband. You do not steal from Jesus Christ, but from the half-blind woman three doors down … You will not be punished for this by the Celestial Court, but assigned to an environment that suits you.
The Celestial Court is just. All your sins are recorded; no priest, and not even the Pope can absolve them. It is all in your own hands! Sincere remorse and the desire to change will be weighed in your favor by the Celestial Court. Five minutes sincere repentance may outweigh the crimes of 80 years. But remember: you cannot cheat! Even if you manage to fool the whole world, you yourself can never be deceived.
On Earth there is only one simple rule, which you can disregard:
Do unto others,
as you would have them do unto you
Or, put another way: Donâ€™t do to others what you donâ€™t want done to you. On Earth, you are free to violate this rule. But after this earthly life is up, you will be treated as you have previously treated others. That’s only fair.
Introduction to the Hereafter
Please donâ€™t have the expectation that youâ€™ll be frolicking in the morning and singing Hosanna in the afternoon. Â Heaven looks a bit different than what the angel Aloisius was allowed to experience. In the Hereafter you wonâ€™t find the nice gentlemen with the horns, bat wings and trident. Iâ€™ll spare you even purgatory.
If you recall films such as â€œThe Matrixâ€ youâ€™re getting closer to the Hereafter. The Hereafter is a virtual world of thought projections, which, however, appear exceedingly real.
This should not particularly astonish you, since our usual life on Earth is likewise a virtual world formed of thought projections. This realization is not new, but rather one of the few things on which all religions of the world agree. The Great Architect of our earthly world is referred to by us as â€œGodâ€.
In the beginning God created Heaven and Earth … You already know that. The updated version speaks of a Big Bang, with which God placed in motion His â€œUniverseâ€ program.Â Itâ€™s been running for a long while and you are one of the objects in this program. You can interact with other objects in the program because this is what the Great Programmer has intended.
The Hereafter is a variant of this data environment, in which a few laws function more rapidly and more directly. Â The Hereafter lies on the other side of a threshold, behind which those in earthly existence cannot look. Â It is not important if the Hereafter is a â€œspiritualâ€ world, which is differentiated from the â€œmaterialâ€ world of our earthly existence. The Hereafter can absolutely exist in hyperspace or in the center of the sun â€“ from our earthly existence it is only to be reached through death.
The Hereafter was originally unstructured. It was here that God took a break and did not plan everything. The raw materials await anyone who can form them. Luckily, youâ€™re not the first to dig in. Your predecessors have already accomplished a great deal of the work.
Letâ€™s take a few thousand inhabitants of Newburgh. Â There are plenty of places so named, so letâ€™s take one with which you arenâ€™t familiar. Let us allow these people to die and transfer them to a completely virgin Hereafter, which no one has yet structured. After a degree of initial confusion the Newburghers rectified this and are living in a Newburgh which corresponds to their own imagination in the Hereafter.
In reality this doesnâ€™t come to pass quite so effortlessly, especially not so fast. You need to learn quite a lot before youâ€™ll able to create your own personal Newburgh. Besides, there is a clear transition. I have already explained to you about the Celestial Court and the life film. Otherwise it could happen that you wake up one morning and find you are dead. You made yourself a bed in the afterworld, the bedroom, the rainy weather outside….
But you are not the first one, so a whole lot of things have already been made before you enter the next world. In a sense, you are now living n the dream of other people â€“ or in their nightmare, if you made bad decisions.
Unfortunately it is even more complicated than that. Every soul in the Hereafter has the power to create reality. Letâ€™s assume, you want to create a big, attractive Mercedes car.Â Now you sit down and concentrate… Yes, of course, youâ€™re in earthly existence. A certain â€œGodâ€ has already created what needed to be created, but therefore things also do not work out so simply with the Mercedes. Concern yourself with getting financing and then things will go easier.
In the Hereafter Mr. Jones, Mrs. Miller, Miss McDowell and Mr. Schreiner have a specific conception of how their surroundings should appear. Unfortunately they know nothing about your wonderful Mercedes, therefore your urge to create encounters their resistance. You have a lot to argue to convince you fellow man, that there should stand a Mercedes car, and on top of everything it should belong to you!
You see, itâ€™s just not worth dying for a Mercedes at all. And remember, itâ€™s only the introduction, for the Hereafter is as great a manifold as is our well-known world around us.
In the Hereafter surroundings await you, which resemble those which you experienced on earth. God did not care for these similarities; the surroundings in the Hereafter had been created by man. Therefore you encounter no surprises, well, almost no surprises. There is one, only one, which can be very pleasant, but maybe is horribly terrific.
You encounter men of your own ilk! Your lovely good-hearted mother, alas, went to another department. Your fraudulent, evil and cruel father you wonâ€™t run across either — unless youâ€™re as fraudulent, evil and cruel as him. Whereto youâ€™ll end up is in the hands of the celestial court.
Apart from this, the Hereafter will feel as you just have moved to a different State. There is work, pleasures, instruction, pains — even hunger and thirst.Â Oh yes, one thing you wonâ€™t find:Â children.Â In the Hereafter there are no births, thus children are only possible on Earth.
Your best choice is to act, as if the Hereafter is a slightly different earth. That eases up acclimatization a lot.
Family Meetings in the Hereafter?
Among the comforting ideas of death are that in the thereafter one will be reunited with his loved ones, who have been preceded in death. Grandmother or father, niece or brother, wife or fiancÃ© — fate strikes out unmercifully and pulls such people away from our side. You have a good chance of running into them in the Hereafter, because they are people of your ilk, people you have chosen to live with because they somehow resemble what you are.
Apart from family member there are naturally â€žtouristsâ€œ, who without fail will want to have a word with Shakespeare (especially former English teachers) or discuss some battles with Alexander the Great(former generals) or would like to study the Art of the Fugue with Johann Sebastian Bach personally.
Unfortunately itâ€™s not quite the simple. Â There are namely a few impediments.
1. The Herafter is subdivided into various Levels.
Youâ€™re already acquainted with Eleuloria, there you will meet Mr. Ernest Woodward, in the surroundings of Chattanooga over there. Mr. Woodward was an average person of average morals, thus he entered this realm of the Hereafter. Â Luckily most people are rather average, so they have there the best prospects to meet an acquaintance. Â You would be advised to look for Joseph Stalin in a deeper level. That is to say, preferably not. Â Mr. Dshugashvili might not be well taken to visitors. Should he have managed in the Hereafter into office and power, heâ€™s already opened up his favorite vacation camps.Â Siberia is just around the corner.
It is however rather probable that you will come across your relatives in the Hereafter because a relationship did not come about by accident. Â Your soul diligently sought an environment for incarnation; an environment that suits best to your needs and inner conditions: this is reflected in your relatives. If you avoid becoming the black sheep of the family you will leave Earth at roughly the terms of other members of your family. Therefore youâ€™ve the chance to personally thank your rich aunt for the generous donations in her testament.
2.Â Rebirth can take place any time
Yes, I know, your dear husband died only half a year ago, so he should be â€œthere upâ€ now wishfully waiting for you. But alas, thatâ€™s not for sure. There are souls which never leave the Hereafter at all, others, which spend centuries there and again others, which clear out as rapidly as possible.
In some cases the next incarnation ensues in a very short interval. Those killed in accidents, which are unexpectedly torn from their lives, often have problems accepting this state of affairs. Â These souls very often reincarnate in children who die soon after birth, to experience the dying process again and to learn by this to accept here own death.
Naturally it holds true, that the longer a person has been deceased, it becomes ever more likely, that he or she will progress into a subsequent life.Â But there is no guarantee meeting a sought after even if he died just a couple of Hours ago. No one is trapped in the Hereafter; it is incumbent of the free will of a soul to make its way back to Earth, if a suitable opportunity arises.Â Not even character displayed on Earth gives a clue, if the person concerned persistently remains in the Hereafter or is rushing head over heals into the next adventure. The souls of humans are by far more multilayered than the partial aspects of such souls, which we encounter on Earth.
3. The sought after Person is now someone different
In the mean time Alexander the Great has had a good 2300 yearâ€™s time to pick out a new life. Â This time would even be sufficient for twenty other in between lives.Â Who knows if your school pal Peter Jones had once been the famous Macedonian?
â€œIf many a man knew, who many a man was than many a man would give to many a man sometimes more honor.â€Â I donâ€™t know, if youâ€™re familiar with this proverb. I also doubt, that the vernacular had the Hereafter in mind when it was coined.Â But it describes the situation rather well.
Incidentally Empress Theodora (ca. 500 â€“ 548 AD), the wife of the Byzantine ruler Justinian I, had already recognized that.Â She began her career as a dancer and worked her way forward with a womanâ€™s appeal into the royal bed chamber.Â This lady had no desire to start her next life low on the Totem pole ever again so she forbad the doctrine of rebirth and at theÂ first handy council she hat this doctrine purged out of the dogma of the church.
Luckily the laws of nature cannot be forbidden, even by an Empress. Therefore, if Theodora wished to be an Emperorâ€™s wife forever, she had to refuse every life thereafter. But, alas, rank, status and name on Earth count very less in the Hereafter. Property is even lesser regarded, for every piece of it will remain on Earth.
4.Â The Soul alone decides about its Identity in the Hereafter
Thatâ€™s not to say that you have a free choice. Â However you learn quite quickly to make some improvements to your body. Â Only inexperienced souls run about as frail octogenarians.Â Rejuvenation and beautification are the rule.Â Mind you, most souls transform neither into Conan the Barbarian nor Naomi Campbell, but rather are content with projecting themselves as their best years.Â Naturally without a beer belly or cellulite.
Experienced souls are able to choose which former life they wish to play in the Hereafter.Â Thus if Martin Luther has no desire to patiently discuss his Reformation for centuries on end, he might prefer to live a Helga Morrington, unrecognized and untroubled.
Whether dear Helga reveals herself to you or not is entirely her prerogative. Therefore the Hereafter is not entirely a super fantastic tourist zone, in which everyone can call on prominent figures of world history. Â And letâ€™s be honest: if you find out that you had been William Shakespeare, youâ€™ll much rather keep it to yourself, rather than having tens of thousands of English Teachers haunting on you in the coming years.
The Death of Semor Ethirion
Certainly it will interest you, how things fare for a famous man after his death. Naturally I could take a look now at John F. Kennedy — and in the course elicit the scorn of his heirs, party colleagues and historians. Since such a quarrel would produce nothing –except money for a few vulture lawyers — I’ll shift to events in prehistory.
At the time of this plot Atlantis hasn’t even yet been discovered. The Superpower of this day is the Kingdom of Eonata, for which radical changes are in store. Semor Ethirion, the last King of Eonata, was an arrogant man, whom most of his subjects fortunately only saw at ceremonies. His courtiers and the senators of Eonata suffered greatly due to his behavior. In that distant past, evidence for which has been concealed by at least one world-catastophy, that archaeologists either ignore or cannot make sense of, is the beyond still more distinctly simply structured as today. The level of Eleuloria in which Ernest Woodward will arrive by his mother is still not created.
But now follow me please into the Parlanion, in the king’s palace, that over Eo na tara meral av Sun rises, of the city over all cities, in the place where we people as children of the Sun have been born â€“ of the once so proud, but today totally forgotten Eonata.
Alcir Monax entered the sleeping chamber of the king, a special right that he alone as royal chamberlain is entitled to. He beheld a few moments the old-grown, motionless body lying there, before he bent his knee as it is custom. Without sound he counted his heart rate, while he waited to be talked to. After ten pulses he dared it, to raise himself and slowly advance toward the bed.
Chamberlain Monax had enjoyed a comprehensive temple education; he also could have found a good livelihood as a doctor and healer. He paid attention to every movement, to the smallest twitch of the body. Finally he arrived at the bed of the king. He saw clearly the auguries of death; nevertheless he carefully checked whether the breathing stopped before he touched the corpse. He felt for the pulse, eventually dared to rock the patient, before he nodded. Yes, it was so far, Semor, the twelfth of the Ethirion kings, was dead.
Mr. Monax stayed a few seconds standing motionless and reviewed his tasks. The kingly standard was brought down to show the whole city that the reign of the kings had come to an end. A few people in the temple would be so impious that still today they would celebrate their new power as ruling senators. In a few days a new year would begin, and at the same time a new epoch and a new measurement of time, this the senators had already determined.
What would become of Alcir Monax? He had all the sanctifications that a priest of the fathers of the Sun could have, but no one would need a former chamberlain… Maybe the new holders of power would only relegate him out of the city, in exile on a remote manor…
â€œYes, just deplore yourself, Alcir, I know exactly anyway, that for me you’ll not pour a single tear.â€ Semor Ethirion had followed the scene, amused and at the same time annoyed. Too gladly he would have abused his chamberlain one last time.
Naturally Semor had long comprehended that he was dead. He was like a priest taught in all wisdoms of the temple; he knew thus what was ahead of him. Therefore he wasn’t surprised by the Celestial Court. He knew his life, he had nothing to blame in himself, his people had after all obeyed, and his behavior was that of an acceptable king. He sensed the result; anyway he knew exactly, that he would come in the Eonata of the Heavens.
However he needed guides, thus he determined to call himself, and he was excited whom the Hereafter would send him as a messenger.
â€œWe have arrived to guide you through the beyond, Semor.â€
The dead king turned around. â€œOh, Belon Saret and his inevitable secretary Monar Argos… Are you really so inseparable that you are even staying together in the beyond?â€
Naturally the former speaker of the senate had rejuvenated himself, he looked both thinner and fitter, than to his lifetimes. His secretary had not renovated himself so comprehensively, though he was already large on the Earth, stately and exceedingly muscular, probably the strongest man and the most dangerous fighter of his time.
Semor had always asked himself why both such opposite men had found each other, but he had at the same time wondered how perfectly they complemented each other, because the strengths of the one completely balanced the weaknesses of the other.
â€œWe are together because we were with the other through all epochs and it will stay soâ€ answered Monar. â€œFollow us please over there, where the Celestial Court has sent you.â€
â€œWhere have you left your manners, Monar Argos?â€ reproved the dead king. â€œYou should decide to behave more politely!â€
Belon gestured behind, to that visible corpse in the distance. â€œThat here was the king, a thrown down shell that stayed behind. In the Hereafter you are only Semor Ethirion, a person, like all the others, without special rights and privileges.â€
Semor laughed and shot a concentrated impulse at Belon. Thoughts were already powers on Earth; in the Hereafter they worked much stronger. Semor was a master of meditation, and he knew that Belon had worked too much in the last decades to increase his mental powers.
This attack should have thrown Belon back and brought him to his knees, but the former senator did not even show that he had noticed the hit at all. Semor’s self-confidence suffered because of that a heavy dampening, so that without further resistance he followed his attendants into the light.
â€œYou are bringing me into Eonata of the Heavens?â€ asked Semor. â€œAre you both allowed to live there as well?â€
Monar smiled underhandedly. â€œThere are five Eonatas in the Hereafter. That, which is meant for you, is the lowest. We will assist you at the beginning, because that is a mission that we have taken. But we have only finite time; from there we will soon return to the Earth.â€
Semor wanted to answer with a sharp comment, but the light that went out from Belon and Monar became brighter and brighter. He found it physically near-painful, till it became dimmed and was pushed back.
Semor was not for the first time in the Hereafter, the memories of earlier lives now returned. Hence he knew with whom he was confronted: revenge-seeking spirits, who gloated, to be now superior over him. Not an old friendship had made both of them reoccur, but rather an open reckoning that they seek to resolve with the means of the beyond.
â€œAh yes? Then get better quickly! I don’t need you! Regardless, which Eonata that might be, I am its king!â€
The surroundings changed. Yes, Semor recognized Eonata, despite the winter storms, that slung stinging ice crystals in his face. He stood at the foot of the castle hill, on the partly collapsed stone bridge, which connected it to the city. The houses around him had found themselves in a bad condition, none of them promised refuge or even to afford warmth. Its palace had also changed. Instead of the inviting, splendid construction there stood on the much steeper hill a murky fortress with repellent walls, by which already the access here underneath was closed through a watched gate.
Semor decided that he had stood long enough in the cold. He went determinedly toward the gate. Belon and Monar didn’t follow him, which he welcomed. With neither of them did he want to hang around any longer.
â€œWhere do you want to go, little friend?â€ snarled to him one of the gate watchers.
â€œI am Semor Ethirion, your king!â€ came back to this rude one the answer. Semor wanted to get past him, further aloft to the Parlanion.
â€œAh neeâ€ called the gate watcher. â€œOne more of these nutters.â€
Semor wanted to get around, to take the brute to task, there he was met by a heavy hit on the head. He felt a sharp pain, for a thorn deeply pinched his skull; then thrown to the ground, he got a kick and was slung away. Dazed he stayed lying on the house wall and felt how from out of his wounded head the blood streamed.
â€œThat was not such a good ideaâ€ deemed Belon and helped Semor to his legs.
â€œA proper blow cleaved your skull cleanlyâ€ commented Monar. He grabbed Semor on the head and pressed it painfully together. â€œHere one can’t die, regardless how bad the injury is, but less experienced souls need weeks till that is cured. Who is hacked into pieces even needs months, till he is whole again.â€
Semor felt his head and ascertained that Monar had healed him. His thoughts seemed to become faster. Totally inexperienced souls could not at all change their appearance, as the first thing they learnt was to correct their age, finally they change their visual nature toward their own desires. On the second level they could choose which of their earlier lives they wanted to be embodied here in the Herafter. The third level they could change other souls… Monar was after this an exceedingly powerful and very old soul â€“ like doubtless also Belon.
â€œHelp me!â€ demanded Semor. â€œThat’s why you are here after all! You could both bring me completely safely up there, onto my throne?â€
â€œWe couldâ€ answered Belon. â€œBut the throne up there is already occupied. Aridor Ethirion has the older rights.â€
â€œAridor…?â€ Naturally Semor knew this name. Aridor was the fourth Ethirion, who had ruled centuries before. â€œBut â€“ that one is history! I am the lord of Eonata!â€
â€œThe gate watchmen there are of another opinionâ€ explained Monar. â€œThere are two of them and armed.â€
â€œYes, but you… You will be my ministers!â€
Monar laughed him out. â€œSemor, if we had an interest on the throne there, then you would be our court jester. And now better come with us, we’ll search for a place for you.â€œ
â€œWhat for? Here one can not freeze to deathâ€ Semor answered back.
â€œThat is your decisionâ€, affirmed Belon. â€œWe don’t have problems here. Whether toes, fingers or ears freeze off you, we don’t know. Can you suppress hunger? We can. Oh, naturally you will not starve, but it is pretty painful. So, search for better accommodation and a job, because you have to pay for everything.â€
â€œDamn! That is obviously much worse than I had imagined!â€
Monar shrugged with his shoulders. â€œThis here is Eonata V, in the middle of Winterland. Here it is just like that.â€
Semor pricked up his ears. â€œAnd how is it in Eonata I? In… Summerland?â€
Belon smiled kindly. â€œIt is pleasantly warm there; anyone can sleep in the open without problems. On the trees grow delicious fruits; anyone has one’s livelihood without work. The souls there are friendly and helpful. Yes, that is a much more beautiful place than here.â€
â€œYou both were there, right? You could bring me there!â€
Belon shook his head and answered seriously: â€žMaybe we could do it, yes. For you the Summerland would be a pyre, because you cannot bear its frequency. No one can enter a higher plane without suffering severest pains. It works the other way around, because the warmth of the higher planes preserves us against this cold, but we have to shield ourselves so we don’t burn you.â€
â€œThose are excuses! Take me now with you! Right now!â€ Semor came up grabbing a batten and went at Monar threateningly.
â€œDon’t do it! You need us!â€
â€œHa! Do you have fear?â€ Semor let his batten swish down on Monar. The best fighter of his epoch did not move. The batten fully met his head, broke into pieces and the parts began to burn.
Belon and Monar looked at Semor sadly. Monar directed the word to him: â€œWe really believed that we could help you, even when our friends said it would be much too early. As it appears, you must actually gather the experiences yourself to be far enough to receive help. Should you one day be so far that you accept help, go to the true temple of the father of the Sun. Not in the great state temple, it is as false as the Parlanion there above. In the winemakers’ quarter of Eonata there is a small temple in which the people pray in the evening for good weather, when they go from the vineyards back home. This temple there is also here. There you’ll find solace when you are ready to receive it.
Semor began to abuse his attendants. At the same time he searched for stones to throw them, as wood had failed. He didn’t need long with such effort, for both the souls vanished and left behind a bright sunray that drifted away as well.
â€œYes, vanish and leave me in peace, you dirty swines!â€ Semor called after them.
The guard watchmen had taken in more of this conversation than Semor had thought. One of them now called to him: â€žObviously you are really a king! Excuse us that we didn’t recognize you! You are a true king of the fools and dumbheads! And now pack yourself up from there; otherwise we’ll throw you in the Sejor!â€
Semor balled his fists, but the gate watchers already had their spears directed at him. Furious he stomped in the snow, as he comprehended that against both of them he couldn’t win. Now he had to nevertheless get over the river and into the actual city. Maybe he should not have chased away his two helpers…
Although, if both were so sensitive, how could they have helped him in this hard world? No, the strong one is best alone, that’s how he always treated things. After all, Aridor was certainly also not welcomed as a king, he fought for his position.
Semor would fight for the position entitled to him, on that he didn’t doubt. There were weak ones here in the beyond, who would soon be subjects. Regardless that Parlanion here is a fortress; he would storm it with his men, with his army.
Semor breathed deeply. Yes, here he was in the right place. Here one could work upwards as a determined, unscrupulous man; here no one would help the weak. He climbed above the wreckage of a bridge’s arch that reached out as treading stones, for dry feet to come to them. The rest of the bridge was still intact.
Semor stepped solemnly toward the city. The inhabitants did not yet know, but their new king was just arriving.
Whether it worked? I would like to leave it open. Semor Ethirion met his own ilk in the city, people who are similarly determined and similarly unscrupulous, like he himself. The conquest of a city in the Other Side is rather more difficult than in This Side, because the willing victims are lacking, the pacifists, the sheep, those who prefer to be under foreign rule, than those who fight for their own freedom. In the Winterland of Semor Ethirion the rule of force has sway that brings the greatest bullies to the top. Yet, anyone of his subordinates waits for a small weakness, to bring him down.
The attempt to attain lordship over Eonata V results, in the end, like so many plans in the beyond, in a new life on the Earth.
The Life Hereafter
In your dreams I am sure once you were driving a car, making love or fighting, meeting some acquaintances or absolute strangers, flying or falling. And all those incidents were absolutely real — at the moment of your dream.
The Hereafter is just as real as any of your dreams. Esoterics would prefer to speak of subtle matter which to perceive our antennae are not sensitive enough. Perhaps the term â€œholodeckâ€œ of Star Trek may be helpful for understanding. There, on pushing a button of the shipâ€™s computer, the database produces any surrounding in an empty space.
The surroundings in the next world are such a projection, which, however, are not produced by an enviably powerful computer on board the ship, but by the inhabitants themselves.
In this life it is regarded as a secret among â€œinitiatesâ€œ that it is we who create our surroundings. This is revealed very soon in the life hereafter.
But we had better start more simply. Through your death you are not suddenly converted into a space mollusc of Ceti Delta 4, but you are still a human being like before. That means, first you create a â€œbodyâ€œ according to your wishes. Perhaps you are an admirer of Bruce Leeâ€™s muscles or of Marilyn Monroeâ€™s softer curves. But the body you know best is the one you have just cast off. For this reason you will enter the next world as Ernest Woodward or Angelique Miller.
You have certain ideas about your body, which are naturally part of your projection, to which there belong ingestion, excretion, breathing or the knowledge through experience that you start bleeding when hurt by a knife. Your new body will react exactly in the same way. The biggest difference lies in the fact that you cannot die. Of course not. For you are already dead. Although this does not mean that you will feel no pain or hunger any longer. After all it corresponds to your accumulated experience of life that an axe hitting your scull is quite a painful thing.
Buddhism even goes as far as to declare our earthly life and the reality connected with it to be an illusion that man, in the course of his development, is to overcome. In the life to come this illusion is much easier to recognize. This is why Monar Argos remained calm after Semor Ethirion, with an improvised cudgel, had fallen upon him. He had simply manipulated the illusion a bit and, thereby, impressed the former king immensely.
Semor remembered the capabilities of the souls which they would eventually attain in the life to come. Imagine an American citizen with 100 pounds overweight and his favorite sport consisting in the perfect handling of the remote tv-control. Let him be twenty years old for ever and give him innumerable hours of training. Some time or other the man will be acceptably slim, manage fifty push-ups in succession and, after still more sudorific training, ten pull-ups successively and run the Olympic hundred meters in under twelve seconds. Well, we have got plenty of time to increase his efficiency as to make him perform a gymnastic exercise like a world champion and run under ten seconds.
Immense amount of time for training is granted in the life to come: 20, 50, 100 lives, as many as you need. Some time you will be a powerful soul. Or do you believe the guards at the gate would have given their assent by politely bowing when Aridor Ethirion had claimed the Parlanion for himself?
Until you have got as far as to disregard illusion, you are at its mercy. Life functions like on Earth, apart from your being immortal. Even at heads cut off bodies grow again, but only extremely slowly.
Semor Ethirion landed on a level of hell, the â€žWinterlandâ€œ. At that time neither heaven nor hell were fully developed. The level in the Winterland in our scale of the layers of the Hereafter is -35 by the standards set for this book. So it looks like God established a penal colony â€¦ God? No, it was us, the inhabitants, which created this country. Eonata V, the Winterland, the Summerland — they all function according to the simple law of correspondence.
That level in the next world is a reflection of the mentality of its inhabitants, not of Godâ€™s cruelty. Imagine a group of compulsive kleptomaniacs in complete isolation. Each of them keeps pinching things because he has to. The only victims within reach, however, are also kleptomaniacs, compulsive thieves. Everyone is spying on everyone; everyone takes what he can lay hand on without producing even the smallest thing himself. This is how hell works.
Why should an inhabitant of Eonata V keep his home tidy? In order to attract a stronger personâ€™s attention and make him take it? Why plant an apple tree if the apples are stolen as soon as they ripen? Why should anyone want warm weather if it helps thieves in their unfair job?
Eonata V is just like its hardhearted, selfish inhabitants want it to be. The people in Summerland, however, are generous and would never grudge anybody anything. They would never steal. This is why there is abundance. There people are willing to work for each other. Therefore they live in a magnificent town.
Or rather, they had lived there. Semor Ethirionâ€™s Eonata V has not existed long since, the Meidonic era is gone. The towns of the world change; adapt themselves to the circumstances on earth. They are not the exact copies of their counterparts on Earth; most recent developments seep through into the next world only gradually. If you blow up the Eiffel-Tower today, it will continue to stand in the Paris of the Herafter for a long time because the Parisians insist on it belonging to their town. Thanks to this insistence there is still a very last Eonata in the Hereafter even today known as â€œHeavenly Eonataâ€. But it will not last long, for this name, too, is dwindling. For the young souls â€œHeavenly Jerusalemâ€ has become the usual term long since.
The temples of the Father of the Sun, however, are still existent: the religion of submerged Eonata. The very original religion was animism, nature animated by spirits. The Hereafter was known to it as Land of Eternal Haze, an area that is still existent today. The first step to abstraction was the idea that the spirits had a common female ruler and origin: Mother Earth. Figurative representations were discovered by archeologists, who repeatedly named them â€žVenusâ€œ although they date from an age when this goddess of love was not yet known.
In the era of Mother Earth heredity followed the maternal line, which is liable to be mixed up with matriarchy. The daughters of Mother Earth then were the high priestesses, guardians of wisdom and traditions, healers of the clans. Men were subordinate shamans, responsible for magic concerning hunting and spells.
Eventually Father Sun appeared at the side of Mother Earth in his procreative role as a man accompanied by a male priesthood. Through astronomical observation mankind learned by and by that the powerful Sun, giving light and warmth and support to everything, obeyed certain laws and thus could not possibly be the true master who had established these laws. Hence there had to be someone standing above the Sun, someone who was paid filial obedience as the father of mankind. From this there originated the Father of the Sun, the highest of all gods, the creator of the universe.
This one hidden god stood so high above all the other gods that, in many cultures, he was worshipped only through a mediator. Such a religion of a Son of God sent down by the Father in heaven is Christianity. His birthday is the day of the sunâ€™s return beginning its ascent in the sky. The twelve apostles are the twelve signs of the zodiac surrounding the sun. The Son of God nailed to the cross who spent three days in the underworld to rise from the dead, results from the astronomical observation of the sun that has found its way into numerous myths.
Therefore, since the teachings of a paternal god and creator harmonize with almost all religions, the temples of the Father of the Sun in the other world have been preserved, though often small and inconspicuous, but always respected on all levels and manned by cooperative souls. Later I will tell more about that.
Other religions temporarily fashionable on earth existed also in the other world for a while. The gods Jupiter and Mars then owned magnificent temples which are in ruins today, like their counterparts on earth. If nobody thinks of preserving a temple in the beyond, it will decay and, finally, be replaced by another building. All this happens like on earth.
Semor Ethirion had to gain a painful experience which is awaiting almost all â€œprominentâ€ people when entering the next world: whatever they had been on earth does not count any longer.
For Ostara, the only Empress of Atlantis, adored by her people even after several thousand years, this turned out to be a nightmare. Her readiness to help and her confidence in the strength of her character made her change into a whore, in a doss house in the most disreputable quarter of Poseidonis I. â€¦But that is another story.
Well, among prominent people there are definitely old experienced souls, steadfast minds, betaking themselves into their respective incarnations. An outstanding life on earth has in a way to be â€ždeservedâ€œ. And there are not too many of the kind. As a matter of fact, there are many more common soldiers than commanders used to giving orders, innumerable peasants, but only one Pope of Rome, many bakers, but only one Leonardo da Vinci. You had better not take it for granted that you spent the Middle Ages as an earl, the Renaissance as a duke, and the Industrial Revolution as a factory owner, only because you are a famous rock star today.
On earth having power is a hard test because it drives you to abuse it. Exercising this power means constant temptation. Ernest Woodward thrashed his classmates and left his first girlfriend in the lurch. Trifles only, but power abused. Semor Ethirion had servants and subjects. If one of the servants made a mistake â€“ was he patient enough? The first time? The second time? Friendliness takes time which a ruler is often short of. And if bellowing at a poor servant is successful, why not bellow at him the next time at once?
as you want them to treat you.
How is a prominent person supposed to learn the lesson if the others are not allowed to defend themselves? Semor Ethirion was master of life and death — would you, as his servant, have dared to yell back?
You are always right, nobody dares to raise objections. You are the best, the greatest, the handsomest â€¦ how can you be expected to learn to give your time and attention to someone?
The Celestial Court might be your chance. But you have never made a mistake in your life â€“ why should you regret or even repent of anything?
It is only at the lower levels of the beyond that you will come across your own mistakes, where what you did to others will reflect on yourself â€“ like in Semor Ethirionâ€™s case.
After having mentioned the Call several times it is time to be more explicit. The Call is a wave of resonance moving from this life to the life to come. Among billions of souls there are from only very few down to only one tuned in to the right â€žfrequencyâ€œ to receive the Call. In the case of Semor Ethirion it was Belon Saret and Monar Argos who answered it. With Ernest Woodward it was his mother. But the Call functions in the opposite direction, too.
On the way to the After World
So you have just died. That was it. Now you are standing there dumbfound, regarding your body, pitying the ambulance men who are trying to reanimate you, or you are annoyed about the callous murderer and robber swearing on account of the poor haul. You have already passed the Celestial Court. Now you may ask yourself what will come next. Do not worry. Things will go on, for it is a long time ago that you transmitted the Call.
Thereby you attracted the helpful soul who will tell you about the next steps. It can be your beloved grandma, your wife who died before you, or just Jesus Christ, Moses or Buddha. But do not reckon on Genghis Khan, just because you think him to be a nice chap and whom you have always wanted to get an autograph from. Who or what appears is directly related to you.
The relation to your grandma is obvious: you loved her and were loved by her. Therefore she will turn up, welcome you and introduce you into the ways of the new world. But even your angelic grandmother will not be able to repeal the sentence of the Celestial Court. She will lovingly explain to you and tell you how to mend your ways — and, all the same, lead you to the hell that you personally created for yourself.
If your taste is rather exclusive and you want to be collected by Moses by all means, there is a little problem. Historically speaking, Mosesâ€™ existence cannot be proved, and presumably he is a fictional figure like Odysseus or Cinderella. And for all that, even if Moses is said never to have existed, a man is bound to turn up following your Call, in appearance like modeled by Michelangelo. It is Moses in every respect, apart from the tiny detail that he last lived on earth as Audrey Snyder and had never been Moses before. What is receiving you is a helpful soul that has taken this shape for your sake. It became Moses for you and as such guides you to the other world.
Maybe you were a musician, however, and wish to be greeted by the greatest of all masters in heaven, by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Historically there is absolutely no doubt that he existed and might thus be roaming the Hereafter — if he has not got an appointment on Earth at the moment, of course. In this case your wish can be fulfilled, and good Mozart will actually receive you. But this is not your decision. The genuine Mozart is possibly a loving helpful soul looking after everyone who wants to get into contact with him. On the other hand, he is perhaps fed up with his popularity after the last few centuries and does not want to see anybody under any circumstances. You need not care about that. You will get your Mozart. For you it will be Mozart introducing you into the next world, even though it was really Richard Wagner — or good old Audrey Snyder.
Perhaps you will be received by an absolute stranger. It depends on you, on the energy you emit. There are people who would rather confide their intimate secrets to a barmaid than to their own wife. You may even be received by a speaking animal, for instance a dog or a bird, to show you round. This depends on your energy, your vibration — and your wishes.
It happens according to your wishes and expectations. If you expect nothing special, you will sit in an office filling in forms for immigration. And a veritable authoritarian pedant will explain to you what, from now on, you have to do and what you must not do. Your Call is always answered — in the way that is most suitable to you. There is one thing you cannot do: choose between the helpful souls which of them is to answer your Call. You have to leave that to the mechanisms of the Hereafter.
The helpful soul comes with a certain task: to make your first steps in the Hereafter easy. Ernest Woodwardâ€™s mother may accompany him for days, perhaps for weeks. For he died for the first time. Compared with him, people with ten lives behind them need not be looked after that intensely.
In addition to that, on the bright levels the treatment by the helpful souls differs distinctly from that in the dark zones. Semor Ethirion was very lucky because some benevolent souls â€žfrom aboveâ€œ wanted to help him. Otherwise he might have come across his equals, blokes like the guards at the gate. If a newcomer is thrashed and robbed without further ado, this is, likewise, a way of introducing and looking after someone.
The Hereafter is not â€žeternityâ€œ, you can get in and out of it. After spending some time there you may become a helpful soul because you know your way around and someone needs you.
You are calledâ€¦
Someone has died and needs a guide. You receive his Call. You know him and set out to meet him. You know what to do, or, as an experienced soul, in what shape you are to appear.
The deceased emits this Call to numerous recipients. In concrete figures: as a first step there are, say, ten thousand potential recipients. This Call contains information about the caller by which the number of recipients is reduced drastically. A hundred recipients are put on the short list after the first pieces of information have been made known. Let us make use of an example from physics: The caller emits polarized light of a certain color. It is only recipients whose â€žglassesâ€œ are polarized in the same way that really perceive this light. Then some color is added, which again reduces the number of recipients. In the end there remain two or three recipients. Their phones ring, as it were, until the first picks it up.
In contrast to usual business customs your symbolic phone will ring only if you are meant — and if you are up to the task without a doubt. As long as your knowledge is insufficient, you will not receive any Call.
In case you are familiar with the term resonance you will also know that in such resonances a lot of energy can accumulate (be built up). This energy enables you to get to the threshold between the two worlds and there collect your protÃ©gÃ©.
However, you cannot be sure of the protÃ©gÃ©â€™s gratefulness. An ancient soul of five hundred incarnations will first remember only its last life on earth. In the course of their common journey back reserve diminishes, and the soul learns a lot about itself. You meet Klara Kaczinsky, a devout Jewish woman, who on her way turns into the Anglican John Gordon, and then into the Protestant Klara Manning â€¦ Since she liked the latterâ€™s life best, she decides to stay with Klara Manning. Theoretically speaking she could also change into the Egyptian Rahutep â€¦ Anyway collecting a stranger is seldom an easy job.
Take Freddy Baker. He died as a senior civil servant and now expects to find an office of immigration authorities in the next world. Naturally he wants to be bullied a bit. After all you are the official and he is the humble petitioner. You are going to do him the favor, for just this has been conveyed to you by the Call. After doing your duty a quarter of an hour you suddenly find yourself sitting opposite Katharine the Great â€¦ who knows you because you were her chambermaid.
Well, that example was meant to sound a little curious. Fortunately really old souls are very polite because they belong to the Spheres of Good. In addition you can be sure that someone who is intended for the Land of Glory will not request a helpful soul from the Abyss. Even Elysium would be too low.
With this we arrive at the third variant of the Call. The Call is always sent from this life and received in the Hereafter. And now we will take a view at a new life.
On the Way to Incarnation
It is your decision to leave the Hereafter and start a new life on Earth. Nobody forces you to do so. Perhaps you simply want to have a bit of fun on Earth, but in almost all cases you set yourself a task. You want to learn something useful for your development. Such a lifeâ€™s work can be brotherly love, but also experiencing violence, dealing with power, grief, punishment â€¦motives are countless.
Suppose you set yourself the task to help mankind as a scientist. This is by far concrete enough. (So do not say, â€žI want to discover the remedy for cancer of the prostate gland.â€œ) With this you attune yourself to a certain frequency of what your next life is going to be like.
That is to say, you need parents who are sufficiently well-off to finance your education. (I will confine myself first to the â€žideal wayâ€œâ€ž. Basically you could set out from any thinkable starting point and solve additional tasks.) Your parents should live in a town and have connections useful for your start in professional life. There is a competition among other souls for this starting point, who want to be bankers, or star cooks, or â€¦
Each of these lives â€“ to be more precise: the fetus in the womb — emits a Call. He recommends himself for the souls in the Hereafter. Have you ever watched the draw of the winning symbols on a slot machine? While the first symbol is being ascertained, the other wheels continue spinning without interruption. Each wheel on that special slot machine is of different size, has a different number of symbols. Choosing between the sexes there would be only two, choosing between good and bad, two hundred and one.
Weeks of subconscious/unconscious communication go by. You do not notice you are being called. Not yet. The fetus and you are attuning yourselves to each other â€“ until eventually you perceive the Call. Now you know your next life is awaiting you. The new life is already emitting its signals. You have dreams and visions of your future life on earth. Consequently you say good-bye to your acquaintances, with which you have lived together in the beyond, and, in the new body, start your journey.
Not all fetuses are winners in this lottery. If the body coming into being fails to find a soul, this results in a natural miscarriage. It happens mostly so early that the well-nigh mother does not notice anything.
There arises the hard question of abortion. Does it mean removing a soulless lump of flesh or murdering a person coming into being? Naturally there are a number of different opinions about that. Generally speaking, abortion is an intrusion into (a process of) nature, and whatever the decision — the only criterion for it is the motherâ€™s feeling about it.
The lengths of the attuning phases differ. It is certainly not so that, with the act of fathering â€“ the uniting of the egg cell and the sperm cell respectively â€“ the person is complete and urgently wants a soul. The window is open for days or even months, it depends on the situation of the mother. A sickly woman prone to illness emits this energy as far as the connection with the Hereafter delaying the Call. After all it would be cruel to fetch a soul down to the earth only to let it die at the same moment. Under certain circumstances this is just what is wanted. But let me first finish the other train of thought.
If a woman aborts and does not really feel anything about it — and she means it –, the Call has not yet been emitted. The life in the making has not yet been able to get into emotional contact with the mother, for this is only done by the soul. If the woman suffers from strong mental after-effects and can hardly cope with the situation and cannot stop thinking of her child again and again — then it was murder. For the soul had already arrived.
In some cases a very short spell of incarnation — the child dies shortly after its becoming existent — is definitely desirable. Quite often it is difficult for souls to accept their death. In that case the best therapy is to send it to earth and kill it on the spot, whether through illness, physical insufficiency, an accident or even murder. If a soul witnesses its own developing body being cut to pieces in the womb, it will comprehend its death and then be ready for the beyond.
Before you begin drawing wrong conclusions — even if the child had wanted it, in the motherâ€™s eyes it would remain plain murder which must be atoned for. â€žKilling on demandâ€œ or administering euthanasia requires precedent communication with a person fully conscious of the ways of life on earth and capable of expressing his/her will clearly and unambiguously — that is to say: with an adult; no infant, let alone a fetus.
Let us return to your incarnation. As the son of an American professor of means you start on the easy road with your objective in view: to help mankind as a scientist.
But what will you do if you grow up, with this lifeâ€™s work before you, as a bushmanâ€™s daughter? Can the Hereafter send you to a wrong life of that kind? Yes, it can. You will not enter life with only one task. As a native girl in the Kalahari you have to overcome innumerable obstacles and inhibitions — on the way to your Nobel prize in physics. Every new problem is a chance to learn and grow, and only through such a youth you will possibly acquire the persistence and determination to hold out, which is necessary for later success.
With reincarnation there is only one guarantee: The life you start anew is the best life available for reaching the learning goal that you chose yourself. It is only for this reason that the Call was meant for you. Starting this life is a privilege. A lot of other souls would love to be in your place, but you did it. You were the best. Think of that before you start cursing this life at the top of your voice.
Maybe this life has its shortcomings and imposes restrictions on you. But you — in fact only you — are strong enough to bear and come to grips with it. Therefore you were chosen for this life among millions, say billions of souls.
Poseidonis V / New York
Isaac Truman hated this place. Some of the streets looked just like those of New York, or rather, like the dirtiest and filthiest streets of the New York that he knew fromÂ the past.Â Â Oh sure, there was the Empire State building but now it served as a prison. The World Trade Centre stood in its usual location, butÂ rose only thirty stories and it had no interior lifts. There, where should have been the Statue of Liberty stoodÂ now a shackled Indian, who emitted the occasional loud cry of woe, ifÂ an unfortunateÂ windÂ blew in that direction. It was said that the damned thing could not be blown up.
Naturally, Isaac Truman was a member of the Jewish congregation and he paid a horrendous levy for the doubtful privilege of the synagogue’s scant protection. For all that, his shop had been broken into twice and once he had been attacked and robbed in the street in broad daylight. But truly, the weather was the worst of all. It was never really light, it rained often and in winter there were the blizzards. Kosher food was unaffordable but Isaac found out that his stomach did not rebel against the cheap and mouldy bread, which constituted his sustenance ever since.
In the first year he still prayed, even though the synagogue charged an entrance fee at every visit. But the years following he cursed much, called god a criminal and saw himself as Job, who was left at the mercy of the devil, who inflicted on him untold torments. But in the meantime he had arrived once again at prayer, even if secretly and free of charge.
ButÂ the thoughtsÂ of his great misery and ponderings why God had singled him out to punish him so, wereÂ rudely interrupted by the ringing of the door bell. Here in this strange New York, nobody ever rang, not even the postie. Who in his right mind would send anything byÂ mail anyway, when he knew for certain that it would never arrive? There were no visitors or friends and robbers would perhaps ring, solely to find outÂ if nobody was at home, theÂ apartment was unprotected andÂ they could plunder the place at leisure.
Isaac grabbed his club that he hadÂ always ready at hand, guns were too expensive and he could not afford one. He stomped firmly, hoping that he, who had rung would know that a seriousÂ opponent awaited him and not aÂ defencelessÂ victim.
Isaac opened upÂ a little gap, as much as the heavy security chains permitted.
â€œWho is there?â€ he grunted at the small woman, who stood there in her old fashioned attire. She appeared to be surrounded by a haze of grey mist.
â€œMy name is Klara Manning. I came to speak to you…..â€ she interrupted herself and smiled pleadingly- â€ž….about God.â€
â€œAre you a goddamn German?â€ Isaac growled. â€œJust what I need! Leave me alone!â€
â€œOh well, I’ll do just that if you wish. But haven’tÂ you prayed for help?â€
â€œWhat was I supposed to have done?â€
â€œYou have prayed, most likely secretly and have sought help. And I am the answer to your prayerâ€ the stranger declared.
â€œHow do you know that?â€ Isaac was amazed.
â€œA prayer like that is a Call, and it will be answered eventually. But whether you want to hear the answer to your prayers is your decision.â€
Isaac sucked the air in and closed the door. He knew that he was taking a great risk, but heÂ undid the chains and opened the door. He threateninglyÂ pointed the clubÂ at the face of the visitor. â€œCome in, but one wrong move….I have no pity, especially not for Germans! You see, I was in Auschwitz!â€
Mrs Manning looked at him, long and penetratinglyÂ with her steel blue eyes. â€œI understand.â€
â€œIn there! Don’t worry; it is not a gas chamber.â€ Isaac pointed to the kitchen. He watched the visitor closely, while he carefully barricaded the door. â€œAnd now tell me exactly why it is YOU of all people who want to help me.â€
Klara Manning sighed and changed her appearance. â€œMaybe this one of my impersonations is far more appropriate for you. Sarah Kaczinsky, at your service.â€ The emaciated apparition rolled upÂ the sleeve of her prison outfit. â€œHere — this is my Auschwitz number — and it is genuine!â€ In the grey and well worn prisonÂ clothes the grey mist thatÂ surrounded her was far less obvious.
â€œI… I don’t understand…â€
â€œOh sure,Â of courseÂ you don’t understand, MISTER Truman, with your false tattoo. You have written a bestseller about your adventures in Nazi Germany, even though you never left New York.
Your kitchen is no gas chamber? What a pity — I always wanted to see one. In Auschwitz and Birkenau I never did. And yes, I died there of typhoid, 23rd of November 1943. I had to work long and hard, my pride was broken. But apart from that the Germans have always treated me correctly.â€
Â â€œI don’t believe you! Auschwitz was hell on Earth!â€
Sarah Kaczinsky turned on him: â€œHow would you know? Youâ€™d never been there! Yes it was hell, but the guards were actuallyÂ the most decent of all the people there. I was raped several times, by the Kapos, the other prisoners. The German doctor wanted the names, he even wanted to transfer me to another camp, but he could not protect me. I was placed into a section occupied by only women, but there too was the rule of the strongest. No wonder I became sick and died weakened as I was. I wasÂ a Jew among Jews, but human feelings and compassion is something I never got from them.â€
â€œThat… IÂ had no idea it was like that…â€
Mrs. Kaczinsky nodded. â€œOf course not. Oh, it is easy to be pitied in New York… But I really experiencedÂ Auschwitz.â€ She changed again and reverted to Klara Manning.
â€œBut…why do you run around as a GERMAN of all things?â€ Â Isaac spoke the nationality as though itÂ must beÂ carefully touched with long handledÂ pliers. â€žIt is theyÂ that put you into the death camp!â€œÂ
â€œAnd why not? I have been part of the table topics by Immanuel Kant inÂ KÃ¶nigsberg. It was a good life, a great deal better in factÂ than the two following ones.â€œ Mrs Manning smiled in a conciliatory manner. â€žI was British afterwards, a man, and I fought against Napoleon in Waterloo… When they did not need me anymore as a soldier, I joined the East India Company. And there… I will not trouble you with details… but anyway, what I did to the natives in those days was theÂ reason I had to go to Auschwitz, to give me a taste and open my eyes.â€
Mrs. Manning waved it off. â€žLet us talk about you! You need help — and here I am, to offer my helpâ€.
â€œSo then?â€ The suspicion re-surfaced in Isaac,Â it had subsided a little dueÂ toÂ her formerÂ prison clothes. â€žJust tell me where I am? This is not New York! After all, I know my City!â€
â€œActually this city is called Poseidonis — Poseidonis V. For this reason there is no UN building but rather the palace of the Emperor.â€
â€œAnd the Empire State Building?â€Â
â€œIt was once the Tower of London… Therefore it is now a prisonâ€
Isaac began to wonder about his sanity. â€œBut… How is that possible?â€
â€œDo you know already that you are in theÂ Hereafter?â€
â€œYes, I do.â€
â€œThe cities here are very old, ancient,â€ Mrs. Manning began. â€œOld does not mean some lousy thousand years, no, not evenÂ ten thousand –Â but far more. ThisÂ city was once the capitol of Atlantis, or rather, one of the capitols of theÂ Hereafter, for there are several of them, althoughÂ on other levels. ThisÂ level has a Greek name, Hades. Â But that would not mean anything to you. It is up to theÂ population to create these cities. The Atlantians for instance were possible the first here…The palace of the Emperor had originated with them. Then came the Romans, evidenced by the Forum and a dilapidated Senate building that is situated in Brooklyn. The English erected the Tower and nowadays it is New York that serves as model for this city of Hades.â€Â
â€œHades?Â That… that is it… IsÂ this hell?â€ was Isasac’s Â desperate question.Â
â€œHell?â€ Mrs. Manning laughed out loud.Â â€œNo, you did not land that far down. What did you expect? The Celestial Court showed up your evil, didn’t it? You pretended to be an Auschwitz survivor! Your life was a total series of lies that is the reason why you are here.â€
â€œAnd you? You too are here!â€
Klara Manning concentrated. The grey veil grew fainter, she herself grew brighter and brighter. The lightÂ burnt Isaac’s eyes and became so strong that he experienced physical pain. Then theÂ grey veil shrouded her again and softened the pain.
Â â€œThat was the light of the level to which I belong,â€ explained Mrs. Manning. â€žIndia really plunged me downward, into purgatory, Auschwitz allowed me to return to the Isles of the Blessed,Â to the threshold where I once stood as Klara Manning. For that reason I am again the one who I once had been. On the Isles we had heard your Call and I was sent to help you.Â â€œ
â€œYou? Is it a long way that you had travelled?â€
â€œToo far to travel on my own. I have come with an expedition. They have given me your address to visit and to explain a few things to you.â€
â€œAn expedition?â€ Isaac asked incredulously. â€œWho would send an expedition into Hades?â€
â€œThe City of the Sun,â€ answered Mrs Manning, but waved it off immediately. â€œDon’t ask me about it, I was not there as yet. It is a much higher level than mine. It is even higher than the Heavenly Eonata…â€Â
â€œI’ve never heard that name before!â€Â
â€œThe Christians call the city the Heavenly Jerusalem. Maybe the last Eonata will be called by that name, in five thousand years time perhaps. Right now it is Eonata…â€ Mrs Manning sighed. â€œPerhaps I will get there in the next thousand years.â€
â€œThe Heavrnly Jerusalem,â€ repeated Isaac worshipful. â€œCan I get there as well? And if it is possible, how?â€
â€œOf course you can get there but you have to earn your way there. Mrs Manning threw a meaningful glance at Isaac Truman. â€žThe path, by the way,Â does not leadÂ via your synagogue.â€
â€œBut I need the synagogue! Without her protection I am defenceless! Besides that, I cannot affordÂ another congregation.â€
Â â€œNear the Brooklyn bridge in the earthly New York is a small catholic church, so I have been told. The Poseidonic address is Place of the Future 13 and the river is called Elduron, not Hudson, Thames or Tiber. There you will find a small temple with a hospice. A temple of the Father of the Sun…â€
â€œOi va boi!â€ Isaac burst intoÂ a Yiddish expression, â€œze Elohim, He me will punish!â€
â€œYahweh, El Shaddai?â€ Klara laughed again, â€œThe Jewish god will not help you. I personally have prayed to many gods…Amun. Ra, Zeus, Jupiter, Wotan, Allah, Christ, Yahweh… But here in the Hereafter you will find out that they are all humanÂ Idols ofÂ the one God who created the universe. Since the beginning of time, people have called Him the Father of the Sun, that name is still with us to this day. In that temple you’ll receive a brainwashing, free of charge.â€ Â
Mrs Manning nodded, amused. â€œOh, it won’t hurt you, I haveÂ been through it already, Mr Truman. You are here in Hades, because you have sinned. Sin does not start with the action, but it starts already with the thought. In the temple of the Father of the Sun you will learn to think differently. For that reason it is called brainwashing.Â But it is up to you, nobody forces you. You can give up the apartment and live in the temple — you can go and are free to leave after a short while and never enter it again.â€
â€œBut it will be a brainwashing?â€ Isaac probed. â€œWith all that opens and shuts?â€
â€œSureâ€ Mrs Manning admitted, â€œBut you don’t need to go, if you preferÂ your lifeÂ here.â€œ
â€œDamn it! And what’s in it for YOU if I go?â€
â€œFor me? Nothing at all!â€ Mrs Manning shrugged her shoulders. â€œI joined the expedition and am visiting a few people who sent out a Call. IÂ tell those souls where to find help. I can’t stay in Hades for long, it costs great effort to contain the light. My mission is restricted to conversations such as this and I won’t accumulate merit pointsÂ due toÂ any measure of success. You are the only oneÂ who canÂ decide if you want to change or if life here is pleasing to you.Â IÂ have no responsibility forÂ youÂ that is for you to handle.â€
â€œHm.â€ Isaac pondered for a while. â€œNot you, but HE might possiblyÂ want it. And HE does live in the Heavenly Jerusalem?â€
â€œGod? He lives everywhere and nowhere. God does not tell you how you should live. He accepts you here in Hades as He would in any other place.â€
â€œBut He sent me to hell!â€
â€œNo, Mr. Truman, you yourself have sent YOU to hell, you alone. But it is YOU alone who can free himself from it. It is like learning to swim. I can show you where you can get instructions. They can show you there how to move arms and legs — but swim, you have to do in the end on your own.â€
â€œIs there no other way?â€
â€œMost certainly. In the next life you will have the opportunity to change, actually a great deal faster than itÂ is possible here.â€
Isaac Trueman nodded. â€œWell, I choose the Earth! There I don’t need any temple or brainwashing!â€
Klara Manning was an experienced soul. She had conducted many such conversations and knew when the pointÂ was reached when no argument availed anything and only time would soften the blockage with which the opponent had surrounded himself.
â€œIt is your decision of course, Mr. Truman. I won’t take up any more of your time. But keep this address in mind — Place of the Future 13. The little temple wasÂ there ever since the beginning of this city.â€ Klara Manning got up. â€œIt will wait for you, patiently, whether you come or not.â€
â€œIt will wait for me in vainâ€ Isaac assured the visitor and led her to the doorÂ which he carefully bolted once again.
Of course you have not recognised the city; it had changed too much in these thousands of years. It had once been Eonata V, in the Winterland, the place where Semor Ethirion entered into theÂ After World.
On Earth geological changes take millions of years but in theÂ After World things happen in centuries. The fortress mountain had grown into a threatening volcano towering over Poseidonis as its landmark. The Sejor, a small inland river had become a stream that ran to the sea. The little temple in the winemakers’ quarter is now situated at the Place of the Future 13.
The Winterland had sunk deeper and split off. Darker levels formed, deeper hells. The Summerland of course exists as ever and has reached loftier heights.
Life in Hades is even less comfortable than it had been in the Winterland. The brutality of the inhabitants has increased. Mr. Truman had sinned greatly on Earth, but he was a pen pusher criminal, who is a weak victim in these surroundings. Nevertheless he richly deserved his stay in Hades.
Â Klara Manning rightly said, that Hades is not hell, because that is a level much further down. Or, according to another category, Hades is the second circle of hell and belongs to the dark regions of theÂ After World.
Nobody remembers Eonata V anymore; it is too long in the past. Of course there are old souls who would remember having lived there, but they have nowadays moved to higher levels as they had learned their lessons. There are also dark souls of like age, but they have become so powerful that Mr. Truman is glad not attract their attention.
The statue of Liberty in the earthly New York is a present of France. The shackled Indian of Poseidonis V is a present as well, but one that wasÂ onlyÂ receivedÂ under duress. It was aÂ creation to show theÂ skill of some highly developed souls, who wanted to give the inhabitants of Hades a memento of remembrance to help them think deeply about their situation. Creations of such mighty souls are hard to destroy, especially in the empire of darkness.Â
Why? I will tell you in a moment.