DEVACHAN

Obedient to this command I slept. When I awakened I was yet in the prison, but all the suffering, all the tortures of hunger and thirst that I had endured were gone. Nothing seemed strange to me, not even when I arose and found that behind me, as a shell, remained the poor clay casket which had suffered so keenly under the pangs of starvation. All was as natural in seeming as are things in vivid dreams. I thought of Anzimee, and wondered if she, too, felt as happy as I did at that moment. I prayed that she might. Then I thought of the words of Him who called Himself the Son of Man, and wondered what manner of being He was. His talk had, for the most part, been unmeaning to me; yet from it I understood that I was dead; that Anzimee would see me no more until after what dimly seemed an eternity, and not then as Anzimee, nor would I then be Zailm; yet I felt no regret over this long prospective separation. And in that time this Son of Man would have come again to the world, and left work for His brethren, the children of our FATHER, who in doing this work would be following after Him, and would become as Himself, in so far as to be disenthralled from time and from earth, and have all things, life and death. Yet, dimly understanding all this, I comprehended not its perfect fullness, for my natural mind was not able to grasp its spiritual meaning.

I obeyed the command and slept. Upon waking, I found myself still in prison, but the torments of hunger and thirst had vanished. Everything felt normal, as if in a vivid dream, even when I rose and saw my physical body left behind like an empty shell. It had suffered greatly from starvation. I thought of Anzimee, hoping she felt as content as I did. Then my mind turned to the one who called Himself the Son of Man, pondering His nature. Much of His speech had been unclear to me, yet I grasped that I was dead and Anzimee wouldn't see me again for what seemed an eternity. When we did meet, neither of us would be the same. Oddly, I felt no sadness about this long separation. I understood that the Son of Man would return to the world, leaving work for His followers, the children of our FATHER. By doing this work, they would become like Him, free from earthly constraints and masters of life and death. Though I vaguely understood these concepts, I couldn't fully comprehend their spiritual significance with my mortal mind.

This, then, was Navazzamin, and I was what men call dead. It was much different from my concepts, as taught me by the priests of Incal, because it apparently differed not at all from earth-life, so far as I had as yet experienced. Perhaps it would if I were now to go and pass through the Maxin-Light. To do this would not be suicide, because I was already dead. No, it would purge away the earthiness which possibly prevented my finding the real Navazzamin which had been taught me. Would Anzimee and all others of my loved ones come hither some day, and, should we meet and know each other here? Oh! it must be so, it must be so!

This, then, was the afterlife, and I was what people call dead. It was very different from what I had been taught by the priests of Incal, as it seemed no different from life on Earth, at least from what I had experienced so far. Perhaps it would change if I were to pass through the Maxin-Light. Doing so wouldn't be suicide, since I was already dead. No, it would cleanse away the earthly aspects that might be preventing me from finding the true afterlife I had been taught about. Would Anzimee and all my other loved ones come here someday? Would we meet and recognize each other? Oh! It must be so, it must be so!

Filled with these reflections I stepped to the door, forgetting that its lock had previously prevented my exit. Only when it opened at my touch did I remember that it had defied every previous effort. Lightly I stepped away down the tunnel until I came to the daylight and to my saddle and tools, and yes, my horse, faithful animal! He was eating of the grasses, and evidently made the overflowing waters at the generator his headquarters. Leave him? Not if I could avoid it! I was free at last! I looked around at the dry washes lying under the open sky, with their eroded monuments of clay, capped with wild pampas plumes. How gracefully these nodded in the light breeze, seeming to say, "Free now, free!"

I approached the door, forgetting it had been locked earlier. Surprisingly, it opened at my touch, defying all previous attempts. I cautiously made my way down the tunnel until I reached daylight, where I found my saddle, tools, and my loyal horse. The faithful creature had been grazing nearby, using the overflowing waters at the generator as its base. I couldn't bear to leave him behind if I had a choice. Finally, I was free! I surveyed the dry riverbeds under the open sky, with their eroded clay formations topped by wild pampas grass. The plumes swayed gracefully in the gentle breeze, as if whispering, "You're free now, free!"

Then I went to my horse, to take him, forgetful that being dead I could not need such transportation. But he seemed not to see me, or to know my presence. This was a difficulty. I was used to conquering difficulties, but this was one where I was at a low what to do. I sat down and looked at the hand. some animal. The longer I looked, the more perplexed I became. At last I got up in a sort of exasperation and talked very earnestly to the animal. No effect! Of course not! The more I talked, the more contented the horse became, as if he felt that I was near, and was satisfied. Finally I started away intending to leave him, since I could in no way influence him. This had great effect! The farther I got the more uneasy he became, as I was able to see, until at last he lifted up his head and neighed loudly. Once, twice, thrice, and then he started after me in a wild gallop! When he reached me he grew easy; but as I went rapidly onwards he followed. He was awake to a sense of my presence, though he could not see, feel or hear me. My mind was wholly occupied in getting this faithful servant to the camp. So, feeling no fatigue, nor hunger nor thirst, nor any sensation of the physical life, I walked clear into camp, all those miles, with that horse following contentedly after! When we reached the camp the vailx was there, but only two of the men, the others having gone in search of me, since I was now overdue in my arrival, thank to Mainin. These men, like the horse could not see me, but unlike him, neither could they sense my nearness. My utmost efforts were entirely unsuccessful, and although I stayed for two days, until the search was over and the men had returned to the vailx, to obtain further orders from Caiphul, I was unsuccessful still. One of the hunters was still out, and when he came back I spoke to him. He could not see me, but my presence affected him strangely. So I spoke again and again, till at last he sat down trembling by my desk in the salon of the vailx. A paper and a pen and ink were on this, and I said to the man: "Use that pen." To my partial surprise, he use it, but seemed in a deep sleep the while and mechanically wrote: "Use that pen." An idea occurred to me, and uttered words which had no connection of meaning, every one of which he wrote just as I spoke it. This was encouraging, so I next said: "It is I, even Zailm, who say these things; I am dead. Go home to Caiphul." Of my body and its where about I said nothing, feeling that it was properly entombed. But what I spoke in dictation was all written, not that the medium heard, but for the time I was the controlling intelligence of his body. The others took the message and hid it, and when the writer had come out of trance they asked him what he had written. But he denied having written anything. This seemed to satisfy them, the man was so obviously honest in his denial. So they went and gathered the equipage and animals into the vailx, and prepared to leave for Caiphul. Their action satisfied me, so. that I thought no more of them, but began to wish I was at home. I reflected that I had left the disability of the flesh in the cave-house, hence I ought to be able to go here or there, as had Mainin. I would try it. So I said to myself: "I would be at home, at Agacoe, where is the Rai, and he will be able to see me, and know all things of this matter."

I went to my horse, forgetting that, being dead, I no longer needed such transportation. The horse seemed unaware of my presence, which puzzled me. I sat down, studying the handsome animal, growing more confused as time passed. Finally, I stood up in frustration and spoke earnestly to the horse, but to no effect. The more I talked, the more content the horse became, as if sensing my nearness. I decided to leave, since I couldn't influence him. This had a dramatic effect! The farther I got, the more uneasy he became, until he finally neighed loudly and galloped after me. Once he reached me, he calmed down but continued to follow. He sensed my presence, though he couldn't see, feel, or hear me. Focused solely on getting this loyal companion back to camp, I walked the entire distance, feeling no fatigue, hunger, or thirst. The horse followed contentedly. At camp, I found the vailx and two men; the others had gone searching for me, as I was overdue thanks to Mainin. These men, like the horse, couldn't see me, but unlike him, they couldn't sense me either. My efforts to communicate were futile. I stayed for two days, until the search party returned for new orders from Caiphul. When the last hunter returned, I spoke to him. Though he couldn't see me, my presence affected him strangely. I kept speaking until he sat down, trembling, by my desk in the vailx's salon. Noticing paper and pen, I told him to write. To my surprise, he did, but seemed in a trance, mechanically writing my words. I tested this by uttering nonsense, which he dutifully wrote. Encouraged, I dictated: "It is I, Zailm, who speaks; I am dead. Go home to Caiphul." I said nothing of my body, feeling it was properly entombed. The others hid the message and questioned the writer, who honestly denied writing anything. Satisfied with their preparations to leave for Caiphul, I turned my thoughts homeward. Realizing I'd left my physical limitations behind, I wondered if I could travel at will, like Mainin. I decided to try, willing myself to Agacoe, where the Rai could see and understand me.

With this utterance all things changed, and I found myself in the palace of Agacoe. But neither Gwauxln nor Anzimee, who was there also, were seemingly able to see me, more than the man in the vailx had been. What was this thing called death, this barrier? Was death indeed the threshold between two conditions, communication to and fro being impossible, as futile to attempt from my side as from the other? I had thought Gwauxln able to penetrate this barrier. But alas! I found myself not more able to obtain his recognition then that of the others. I knew he could see those who put off their fleshly shells in order to travel as Mainin had done, and resume them at will; why then not see me? Death perhaps meant more even than putting aside the body. Long I stood there, wondering at this thing called death. As I stood by Gwauxln's side, having abandoned the attempt to impress him with a knowledge of my presence, a human shape came into the apartment. Shape? It seemed as real as any of the courtiers sitting by the arch of the doorway. None of these latter appeared aware of the new arrival; except the Rai, no one beside myself saw him, but continued their talk regarding the sudden death of the Incaliz Mainin, and disposal of his body in the Maxin-Light on the previous afternoon. I had been dumfounded at the strange resemblance of the new arrival to myself, but I was immeasurably amazed to hear the Rai exclaim:

With those words, everything changed, and I found myself in the Agacoe palace. However, neither Gwauxln nor Anzimee, who was also present, seemed able to see me, just like the man in the vailx. What was this thing called death, this barrier? Was death truly the threshold between two states, where communication was impossible from either side? I had thought Gwauxln could penetrate this barrier. But alas! I found myself no more able to gain his recognition than that of others. I knew he could see those who shed their physical forms to travel as Mainin had done, and resume them at will; why then not see me? Perhaps death meant more than just leaving the body behind. I stood there for a long time, pondering the nature of death. As I stood by Gwauxln's side, having given up trying to make him aware of my presence, a human figure entered the room. Figure? It seemed as real as any of the courtiers sitting by the doorway. None of them appeared to notice the newcomer; except for the Rai, no one but me saw him. They continued discussing the sudden death of Incaliz Mainin and the disposal of his body in the Maxin-Light the previous afternoon. I was stunned by the newcomer's strange resemblance to myself, but I was utterly amazed to hear the Rai exclaim:

"What! Zailm dead! Dead?"

"What? Zailm's dead? Dead?"

An attendant, hearing this exclamation, but seeing only the sovereign, hastily went to him enquiring his pleasure. As he approached he passed directly through the form which Gwauxln had addressed by my name! Neither the human shape nor the attendant seemed aware of the remarkable , but the Form, smiling, in reply said:

A servant, hearing the outburst but seeing only the king, rushed over to ask what he needed. As he approached, he walked right through the figure Gwauxln had called by my name! Neither the ghostly shape nor the servant seemed aware of this strange occurrence, but the figure simply smiled and replied:

"Aye, Zo Rai; I am Zailm, but not dead, except in that I am free of earthly restraint."

"Yes, Zo Rai; I am Zailm, but I'm not dead—rather, I'm free from earthly constraints."

Confused, almost stupefied by these happenings, I sank on a divan near me. Gwauxln could see what purported to be me was indeed a very image of me in looks, speech, memory of events, in fact really was the psychic counterpart of my life and self, but he could not see me. Mystery, aye mystery! How many had death to reveal to me? I had left in the Umaur prison a material image of myself; was it possible that there also existed an intermediate counterpart of both my material body and myself, which yet retained certain gross forms of life lost by me, making it visible while I was invisible? But as Gwauxln was a Son of the Solitude, why was he unable to perceive both my astral and myself? He was not unable, but would not allow me to know his ability. The reason, plain to me now, but not then, briefly is:--That a person in dying is separated into psychic elements which, not to be too detailed in the statement, are threefold, earthly, psychic and spiritual. Of these the highest is the I Am, the ego. The others are those above mentioned as spoken to by Gwauxln, and as left in the prison. Now, the ego seeks an exalted level; the "shell' stays in the earthly conditions until the body, finally dissolved, is "dust to dust." The exalted or egoic state is one of isolation. As spoken in Biblical records, [*1] a medium can go to it, but the ego, after a little while, cannot return to earth, nor know anything earthly save those extremely tense mental-spiritual states of one or many individuals who reach out for the things of God. And these things are not earthly. This is real mediumship. The genuine medium rises to the necessary height, but the ego can not descend to earth, can not deny the law of progress, except during a limited period after the transition called death, and then it is not retrogression. A medium is like an aneroid barometer, able to indicate the degree of ascension above the ocean of water, or of spirit. But he must be present on the level; the level cannot descend to him. Hence it is that one in dying is a traveler to that bourne whence none return. There is no return of the departed, except through physical rebirth and reincarnation. I leave thee to find out that this is not transmigration of souls, for the latter postulates rebirth in lower animal form as a punishment for sin; such a thing can not be. Retrogression is impossible, and the whole notion is but a corrupt falsity of conception, founded upon the misunderstood truth of reincarnation, whose successive rebirths are invariably progressive.

Bewildered by these events, I collapsed onto a nearby couch. Gwauxln could see what appeared to be me—an exact replica in appearance, speech, and memories—but he couldn't see the real me. How many mysteries would death unveil? I had left a physical copy of myself in the Umaur prison. Was it possible that an intermediate version of both my body and self existed, retaining certain life forms I had lost, making it visible while I remained invisible? Though Gwauxln was a Son of the Solitude, why couldn't he perceive both my astral form and me? In truth, he could, but chose not to reveal this ability. The reason, clear to me now but not then, is this: When a person dies, they separate into three psychic elements—earthly, psychic, and spiritual. The highest is the I Am, the ego. The others are those Gwauxln spoke to and those left in the prison. The ego seeks a higher plane, while the "shell" remains in earthly conditions until the body dissolves into dust. The egoic state is one of isolation. As mentioned in Biblical records, a medium can reach it, but the ego cannot return to earth or know earthly things, except for intense mental-spiritual states of those seeking the divine. This is true mediumship. A genuine medium rises to the necessary height, but the ego cannot descend to earth or defy the law of progress, except for a brief period after death. A medium is like an altimeter, able to indicate the degree of ascension above the ocean of water or spirit. But they must be present on that level; the level cannot descend to them. Thus, one who dies travels to a place from which none return. There is no return of the departed, except through physical rebirth and reincarnation. This is not transmigration of souls, which wrongly suggests rebirth in lower animal forms as punishment for sin. Such a thing is impossible. Retrogression cannot occur, and this notion is a corrupt misunderstanding of reincarnation, whose successive rebirths are always progressive.

To return to the Rai and his determination not to see me. Gwauxln knew that I was not yet come into the proper state, and feared to interrupt my progress. Hence he would not allow my "shell" to influence him, so far as I could determine. Having, however, by the contact of his supersensitive nature perceived the fact of my demise, he sought further, and though his actions denied to me that he saw me, yet he put into operation forces to the end that I should presently be ready for him to come to me. But not until my mundane life was faded would he do so; not until I was gone forth into the "undiscovered country" of Navazzamin. Then he came, and the meeting was one of simple joy, of unaffected grace, between two souls equal before God, not in status of acquired wisdom, for in that Gwauxln was vastly above me, but in that equal brotherhood of the Spirit which I wish now reigned an earth. It shall yet do so, for the Cross Bearer said, "Ye are all Children of one Father!" Behold, it is so!

The Rai remained firm in his decision not to see me. Gwauxln knew I hadn't yet reached the proper state and feared interrupting my progress. He wouldn't allow my physical presence to influence him, as far as I could tell. However, his sensitive nature had perceived my death, and he set forces in motion to prepare me for our eventual meeting. He wouldn't come to me until my earthly life had faded completely, until I had entered the "undiscovered country" of Navazzamin. When he finally came, our meeting was one of simple joy and unaffected grace between two souls equal before God. While Gwauxln far surpassed me in acquired wisdom, we shared the equal brotherhood of the Spirit that I wish existed on Earth today. It shall yet come to pass, for as the Cross Bearer said, "You are all Children of one Father!" Indeed, it is so!

When Gwauxln was come unto me, the sphere of earth was in nowise brought with him. To have carried earthly conditions with him would have been to remand me to earth, and have rendered me palpable injustice. No ego ever is permitted, by the very laws of its being, to go back to earth except a wrong thing is thereby suffered. The selfhood of an initiate may project itself into devachan, but the dweller in devachan (heaven) can not go again to earth till it be born again therein. Indeed! why does the soul leave earth after the grave? It is because in devachan it assimilates the fruits of active earth-life. Right here is the explanation of the written Word of God: "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, no device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest." [*1] True it is that in the grave is nothing done. In the following pages much will seem to indicate my "doings" between the grave and the cradle. But observe that the whole of earth was become a perfect blank to me. The soul can not return save it re-embody in rebirth. To call it back is to came revulsion of this process, and reassociation with the astral-shell which the ego left behind at the decease of the body. Such reassociation revives the astral whereupon action and reaction take place between it and the ego, much to the detriment of the latter. All I "experienced" was only the fruits of what I had done; I could do no new thing, think no new thought, experience nothing not in itself the expression of something done ere I came through the grave. And in this rearrangement and crystallizing of my past earth life, time cut no figure. The realness of it was; but the reality of vivid dreaming; time had no part in that which was already done.

When Gwauxln came to me, he didn't bring the earthly sphere with him. Bringing earthly conditions would have unfairly sent me back to Earth. No soul is ever allowed, by the laws of its existence, to return to Earth unless it would prevent an injustice. An initiate's self can project into devachan, but a devachan (heaven) resident can't go back to Earth until reborn there. Indeed, why does the soul leave Earth after death? It's to absorb the fruits of its active earthly life in devachan. This explains God's written Word: "Whatever you find to do, do it with all your might; for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom." True, nothing happens in the grave. The following pages may seem to describe my "actions" between death and rebirth. But note that Earth had become a complete blank to me. The soul can't return except through rebirth. Calling it back causes a reversal of this process, reconnecting it with the astral shell left behind at death. This reconnection revives the astral, leading to harmful interactions between it and the soul. All I "experienced" were the results of my past actions; I couldn't do, think, or experience anything new that wasn't an expression of something done before death. In this reorganization and crystallization of my past earthly life, time was irrelevant. The realness of it was like vivid dreaming; time played no part in what was already done.

It lay in the power of the Rai to recognize me, but he would not, that I might not suffer ham. It similarly lies in the power of all forceful mediumistic natures (generally) belonging lug to the sect called "Spiritualists" to do likewise. These media can recall the departed, but at what dread cost to the departed ego, and reacting upon the medium to the latter! I say no process of Nature as ordered by our Heavenly Father may be lightly interrupted; every such act carries penalty proportionate to the understanding of the culprit; never light, and often of fearful weight. Had I remained to see, I would have seen Gwauxln, Son of the Solitude, go forth in his own astral shape, after retiring his corporeal to his secret chamber, that no harm might come to the body while he was away. And the shell-Zailm would I have seen go with him to the Incalithlon, and there should I have seen the Rai cause it to pass into the Unfed Light. But of all men on earth only the trained eyes of a Son could have seen what then happened. The "shell" would not have emerged from the Maxin nevermore. What was this? Why destroy it? So that it might not go forth in the earth and impress sensitives such as the vailx-man whom I had impressed in Umaur, and whom my "shell" might otherwise continue to impress. Thus might have resulted much trouble, for this astral of mine was but faithfully repeating my final words ere I parted company with it, when it said to Gwauxln, there in Agacoe, "I am not dead." It was even then like all other shells, its double composite nature only holding together during the limited period it could draw sustaining magnetism from my recently closed earthly correspondence.

The ruler had the power to recognize me but chose not to, protecting me from harm. Similarly, powerful mediums, often associated with Spiritualism, possess this ability. These mediums can summon the departed, but at a terrible cost to both the summoned spirit and the medium. Natural processes, as ordained by God, should not be carelessly disrupted; every such act carries a punishment proportionate to the offender's understanding—never trivial and often severe. Had I stayed to witness, I would have seen Gwauxln, a spiritual master, leave his physical body in a secure chamber and venture forth in his astral form to prevent harm to his corporeal self. I would have observed my astral shell accompany him to the Incalithlon, where the ruler would have guided it into the Unfed Light. Only a trained spiritual master could have perceived the subsequent events. The shell would have vanished forever into the Maxin. Why destroy it? To prevent it from roaming the earth and influencing sensitives like the airship operator I had encountered in Umaur. My shell might have continued to affect such individuals, potentially causing significant problems. It was merely echoing my final words before I left it, telling Gwauxln, "I am not dead." Like all shells, its dual nature could only persist while drawing sustaining energy from my recently severed earthly connections.

In some cases such sustenance in sufficient for ages, in others, centuries, years, days, or even minutes, according to the earthward-turning, or the spirit-turning sympathies of the decedent. The astral is only vivified force, bearing the image in all respects of its ego, the I AM. Even prophecies made by "returned spirits," prophecies which come true after years, perhaps are but the impressed foresight of the ego at the moment of departure. It for an instant sees into vast future depths of time. And this glimpse in imprinted on its astral-shell. It is psychic form. If the phenomena set in motion by man are of that intensely vital created by Moses, Buddha, Zoroaster, then just as long as a believer of any one of these religious systems adheres, that long, but no longer the "shells" of these prophets will continue their derived existence. It is psychic force which is their controlling lever, formed force. It is this same force which holds the stars to their orbits, and the atoms to theirs. It is vital, and dual, being positive and negative. To separate the force or "fire element" of the ancients (ancients to thee, not to me), was to cause the focus for such an Unfed Fire as the Maxin, and in later ages, in Israel the power in the Ark of the Covenant, alike with the Maxin, fatal to life. These focus points are portals whereinto the entire concourse of lesser forces of nature are absorbed upon contact. These foci are also the sole residence of the much sought "universal solvent" of the alchemists; needless to say that as some of these alchemists have been Sons of the Solitude, that therefore they have had the wonderful "solvent" to serve them.

In some cases, this sustenance lasts for ages; in others, centuries, years, days, or even minutes, depending on the earthly or spiritual inclinations of the deceased. The astral form is merely energized force, bearing the complete image of its ego, the "I AM." Even predictions made by "returned spirits" that come true years later may simply be the impressed foresight of the ego at the moment of death, briefly glimpsing the vast future and imprinting it on its astral shell. If the phenomena set in motion by individuals are as intensely vital as those created by Moses, Buddha, or Zoroaster, then the "shells" of these prophets will continue to exist as long as believers adhere to their religious systems. Psychic force, which is formed and dual (positive and negative), acts as their controlling lever. This same force holds stars and atoms in their orbits. To separate the "fire element" of the ancients was to create a focus for an Unfed Fire like the Maxin, and later, in Israel, the power in the Ark of the Covenant. Both were fatal to life. These focal points are portals that absorb all lesser natural forces upon contact. They are also the sole residence of the alchemists' much-sought "universal solvent." Notably, some alchemists have been Sons of the Solitude, granting them access to this remarkable "solvent."

Equally apparent must it be why the secret has remained carefully concealed. These foci are very auricles of the heart of the Universe, hence any sort of formed force meets here its Omega. Consequently when Gwauxln caused my astral to pass into the Maxin, he returned to the sum-undivided of cosmic force a quantity no longer of use to the formed world. On a very small scale indeed the medulla oblongata of the brain is such a focus, a maxin-point, where positive and negative meet. Were it not so, life would be impossible; destroy this maxin of the body, even by a needle thrust, and vitality instantly ceases. But enough. Gwauxln came to me, who could not go to him. Those not initiates do often thus rise in their sleep to their friends, but they fail at the point of not knowing how to do so voluntarily.

It's clear why this secret has been carefully guarded. These focal points are like the heart chambers of the Universe, where any focused energy reaches its ultimate end. So when Gwauxln sent my astral form into the Maxin, he was returning a portion of cosmic energy that the physical world no longer needed. On a much smaller scale, the medulla oblongata in the brain acts as a similar focal point, where positive and negative forces converge. Without this, life would be impossible; damaging this body's focal point, even with a needle, would instantly end life. But that's enough explanation. Gwauxln came to me because I couldn't go to him. Non-initiates often unconsciously rise to their friends during sleep but lack the knowledge to do so at will.

As one great point of my work is to explain these mysteries, I may spare yet a little space in rendering clear, past all mistake, how it is that those on earth can acquire the power of going to their friends beyond the Divide, but never these last come back to earth.

One key goal of my work is to demystify these phenomena. So, I'll take a moment to clarify, beyond any doubt, how the living can gain the ability to visit their departed loved ones, while the deceased can never return to our world.

The barometer on a calm day registers at sea level a definite degree of air pressure, and at one mile above the sea, on the side of a mountain, let us say, the mercury in the tube has "fallen" to another definite but less degree. This is in both cases due to air pressure. If now one desire to have the pressure existing at a mile's height, will he go up to it, or will he. bring that altitude down to himself? In storm weather the barometer "falls" also, the air is less dense, meteorological changes have taken place which in effect have brought the high aerial altitudes, i. e., the conditions prevailing in high altitudes, down to the lower level. But thus has a storm been created; superior conditions have forced one. So it is that by the exercise of superior force a medium at a "spiritualistic seance" can bring back or down a soul which had gone on through the grave; but it will give rise to a psychic storm, and these are exceedingly costly occurrences. The Witch of Endor created such a storm when she forced Samuel down to earth again. Beware, O ye mediums! If thou art, friend, a human "spirit barometer," thou mayest rise to thy friends, but never, as thou valuest soul's peace for thee, or for them, seek to bring them down to thy "circles."

On a calm day at sea level, a barometer shows a specific air pressure. One mile up a mountain, the mercury in the tube drops to a lower, but still definite, level. Both readings reflect air pressure. If you want to measure the pressure at a mile's height, would you climb up or bring that altitude down to you? During storms, the barometer "falls," indicating less dense air. Weather changes effectively bring high-altitude conditions down to lower levels, creating a storm. Superior forces have imposed these conditions. Similarly, at a séance, a medium can use superior force to bring back a departed soul, but this causes a psychic storm—a costly event. The Witch of Endor created such a storm when she summoned Samuel back to Earth. Be warned, mediums! If you're a human "spirit barometer," you may rise to meet your friends, but for the sake of your soul's peace and theirs, never try to bring them down to your "circles."

Those who seek only the exciting part of this history will do well to omit perusal of the greater part of Book I, and leave it to the reader who seeks the reason and lemon of my life record, and how I am able to depict scenes past by more than twelve thousand years ago.

Readers interested only in the thrilling aspects of this story should skip most of Book I. It's better suited for those who want to understand the purpose behind my life's account and how I can describe events from over twelve millennia ago.

Through the crime of Mainin the Incaliz, I had been forced to seek my psychic plane, and because I was I, and am I, that plane is more or less one of isolation. That is to say, it was peopled with the children of my fancy, my experiences, my hopes, longings, aspirations, and my conceptions of persons, places and things. No two people see in the same way the same world. To Anzimee, with her knowledge, the world could not have seemed the same as to Lolix, who saw from another, and in some ways lower, standpoint, while to neither was it the same as to the wise minister, Menax; and with all three the view of life was different from that held by Gwauxln.

Due to Mainin the Incaliz's crime, I was forced to retreat into my psychic realm, which, given my nature, is largely one of solitude. This realm is populated by the products of my imagination, experiences, desires, and aspirations, as well as my perceptions of people, places, and things. Everyone sees the world differently. Anzimee, with her knowledge, would perceive the world unlike Lolix, who viewed it from a somewhat less elevated perspective. Neither of their viewpoints would match that of the wise minister, Menax, and all three would differ from Gwauxln's outlook on life.

So also the heaven, the devachan, of one person is filled with his concepts of life, while that of his neighbor on either side--so to speak, is peopled with other peculiar mental properties. Now the state after the grave, and his or her knowledge, aspirations and trusts of life is the condition of harvest, where no one acts, but where the rewards of action in the preceding life axe paid; it is the land of Lethe, where is no pain, sorrow, sickness or agony, for these earthly conditions begun on earth, and they perforce must be finished on earth. So karma decrees. Heaven is passive, not active, and results of knowledge are there assimilated by the soul; that is, made so that the new birth is like the succeeding page of a business ledger--all of the old lives, with the last added in. I hope I have not been prolix. I have not, if I have given a clear comprehension of what the relation really is between earth and heaven, and that the latter is to the former as the resting time of night is to the activity of the day. Let none suppose that the devachan of one that hath committed earth-binding errors, and must by these bonds again reincarnate, is anything like the great Life wherewith are crowned those who are faithful unto the death of that serpent in the heart, animal lusts. The words can well portray mere devachan, they are powerless to depict that Life. Finite can never compass Infinite. Then let the Infinite into thy hearts.

The afterlife, or heavenly realm, of each person is shaped by their unique understanding of life, differing from those around them. This state following death reflects one's knowledge, aspirations, and beliefs from their earthly existence. It's a time of reaping rewards for past actions, free from pain, sorrow, illness, or suffering, as these earthly conditions must be resolved in the physical world, as dictated by karma. Heaven is a passive state where the soul absorbs the results of knowledge. This process ensures that the next life begins like a new page in a ledger, incorporating all previous experiences plus the most recent one. To clarify, the relationship between Earth and heaven is comparable to that of day and night—one for activity, the other for rest. However, it's important to note that the afterlife of someone bound by earthly mistakes, necessitating reincarnation, differs greatly from the exalted state achieved by those who overcome their base desires. Words can describe the common afterlife but fall short in portraying the transcendent state of those who conquer their animal instincts. The finite cannot encompass the infinite. Therefore, open your hearts to the infinite.

Even so I pondered, in the presence of Gwauxln, Anzimee, and the others, who either would not or could not see me, my earthly powers were departing. The power which I had a moment before possessed of seeing persons, places and things of the world seemed fast escaping me, while glorious sights and sounds replaced them, sights and sounds akin to the day dream of the life just left, except that these were real to my senses, tangible and mutually reactive. Ah, well! if those left on Death's first shore could not see me nor know my presence, nor I see them nor their presence, why not unresistingly glide into enjoyment of the peace and the new sights and things which were come in place of the old? Yea! I would. Goodbye, old life; hail to the new.

As I stood there, surrounded by Gwauxln, Anzimee, and the others who seemed oblivious to my presence, I felt my earthly senses fading away. The ability to see people, places, and things from the world I'd just left was quickly slipping from my grasp. In its place, magnificent sights and sounds emerged—similar to the daydreams I'd experienced in my previous life, but now tangible and interactive. I realized that if those left behind on the shores of mortality couldn't perceive me, nor I them, why should I resist embracing the peace and wonders of this new existence? Yes, I would embrace it wholeheartedly. Farewell to my old life; welcome to the new.

As peacefully as a dream the sight of the palace and of familiar things faded from view, and I seemed to have come into a beautiful valley, hemmed in by azure hued mountains. Before me stood a building of unpretentious exterior. Irregular in its outlines, it seemed to have been built in sections, added as more rooms became necessary. What an altogether excellent idea that was, I thought. It was formed of slabs of rock, not quarried, but naturally scaled from the ledge. In places it was three stories high, in others only two, but mainly all the rooms were on the ground floor. What sort of people lived here? Certainly people whose architectural abandon was after my own heart. I felt, ere seeing them, already friendly. Assuredly they lacked not the love of beauty, for covering the quaintly picturesque dwelling ran perennial vines, while all about lay tasteful gardens. Should I venture to intrude my presence? As I considered, a man opened a door near me and came forward. He had a very familiar appearance; where had I seen him? I had forgotten as completely as if I had never known the life which I had experienced as Zailm, the son of Menax. My senses were dominated by the feelings of boyhood, and the thoughts and ideas and simple knowledge of boyhood in the mountain home by Pitach . Rhok. As the familiar looking stranger drew close he said:

As if in a dream, the palace and familiar sights faded away, replaced by a beautiful valley surrounded by blue mountains. Before me stood a modest building with an irregular outline, seemingly built in sections as more rooms were needed. I thought this was an excellent idea. The structure was made of natural rock slabs, varying between two and three stories high, but mostly single-story. I wondered about the people who lived here, feeling a kinship with their architectural style even before meeting them. The dwelling was clearly home to those who appreciated beauty, covered in perennial vines and surrounded by well-tended gardens. As I debated whether to approach, a man emerged from a nearby door. He looked strangely familiar, but I couldn't place him. I had completely forgotten my life as Zailm, son of Menax. Instead, my mind was filled with the thoughts and simple knowledge of my boyhood in the mountain home by Pitach Rhok. As the familiar-looking stranger drew near, he spoke:

"Knowest thou me, thy father, Merin Numinos?"

"Do you recognize me, your father, Merin Numinos?"

While this settled the apprehension that dimly arose in my consciousness that I was alone, and therefore invisible to people, it only quenched the idea that had rapidly faded an I looked on the house of slabrock, the idea that I was dead. I no longer knew any such experience, and the knowledge of death had passed away so far as it applied to my own decease. I was filled with pleasure at the question of the man before me, and I now perceived that he was the father of my childhood's ideal, but not him whom my mother had always presented in disparaging light: she, thou knowest, did not like him. But this thought did not present itself then; I only knew that I looked on him whom I recognized as my father. I was overjoyed at finding him, and I replied: "Verily, I know thee well!" Then he asked: "Wilt thou rest?"

This calmed the vague worry in my mind that I was alone and invisible to others, but it only fully dispelled the quickly fading notion that I was dead as I looked at the stone house. I no longer had any such experience, and the concept of death had vanished, at least regarding my own passing. I felt delighted by the man's question, and I now realized he was the father I had idealized as a child, not the one my mother had always portrayed negatively. However, this thought didn't occur to me then; I only knew I was looking at the man I recognized as my father. Overjoyed to find him, I replied, "Yes, I know you well!" He then asked, "Would you like to rest?"

"Being fatigued, I will do so, and no doubt be much benefited."

"I'm tired, so I'll do that. It'll probably help a lot."

Thereupon Merin Numinos led me within the great rambling house to what I must call a den, even though the name may seem inelegant. Den it was, cleanly, but so charmingly, delightfully confused and disorderly; books and specimens of rocks, and all things which a boy loves were scattered about in that inextricable litter which fills the trim housekeeper with despair. My pleasure was unbounded, for I felt that I was a boy, only a boy, and had yet to reach maturity, the unknown possibilities of which seemed to fill my whole being with pleasant anticipation of the future; I was a lad of exuberant spirits let loose in his own realm, and in this room free from fear of the orderly mother who had elsewhere always restrained me. On a bed, roughly smoothed up in one comer of the shaded room, lay a pack of books from the district library, each marked, "Pitach Rhok District 5," in Poseid characters. These were in my way, and I laid them carefully, for books were ever almost sacred objects in my eyes, on the floor, in order that I might rest on the bed. Then I laid me down to sleep upon the rude couch which had always seemed softer and easier to fond memory than any downy cushion in the Caiphalian life. Not that I knew this as I lay down, I only knew that I experienced a state of things just suited to my desires. I had no clear idea of any event of the old life in Poseid; no memory of death, nothing. All had gone like the events of some dream which we strive in vain to recall at breakfast next morning. And yet, when I came across things in the new state similar to those known and loved in the old, when I found things here such as I had been wont to dream of some day carrying to realization, then the new realities, which, after all were not new, seemed wholly satisfactory, with the added charm of achievement, though I could not recall the old.

Merin Numinos led me into a large, sprawling house to what I can only describe as a den. Though the term might seem unrefined, it was indeed a den—clean, yet charmingly cluttered and disorganized. Books, rock samples, and various objects that boys typically love were strewn about in a delightful mess that would horrify any tidy housekeeper. I was overjoyed, feeling like a carefree boy with his whole life ahead of him. The unknown possibilities of adulthood filled me with pleasant anticipation. In this room, I was free from the constraints of my usually strict mother. In a corner of the dimly lit room, a makeshift bed held a stack of library books, each labeled "Pitach Rhok District 5" in Poseid script. I carefully moved these almost sacred objects to the floor so I could rest on the bed. As I lay down on the simple couch, it felt more comfortable than any luxurious bed from my Caiphalian life—though I didn't consciously remember this. I only knew that everything felt exactly as I wanted it to be. I had no clear recollection of my past life in Poseid, no memory of death—nothing. It had all faded like a dream we struggle to remember upon waking. Yet when I encountered familiar objects or realized dreams from my old life, these new-yet-not-new experiences felt deeply satisfying, with the added thrill of achievement, even though I couldn't recall the specifics of my past.

"The whole scene which greets mine eyes, In some strange mode I recognize As one whose ev'ry mystic part I feel prefigured in my heart."

I recognize this entire view before me In some mysterious way, as if I knew Each mystical element, somehow sensed Deep within my heart, long before I saw it.

Nature here, though presenting some novelties, was not different enough to excite special attention.

Although the natural surroundings offered a few new sights, they weren't unique enough to warrant particular interest.

One day I arose and departed from the scenes of this reproduced boyhood's life. The curtain rose on things derived from the later life after leaving Pitach Rhok for Caiphul, and I found myself now in the midst of acquiring knowledge even to the great degree of a Xio-Incala, a degree greater than even any scientist of the modem world has achieved. But this phase of devachan soon passed, because, not having reached such a degree on earth, nor having even tried to do so, I had no real basis from which to draw devachanic scenes. Thus passed the time around me, sometimes with real egoii of deceased earthly persons who had worked with me intimately on earth, and so had with me to reap the results of the collaboration. At other times I was alone with my concepts, which, however, seemed as real as actual persons, for all seemed absolutely real. Lolix was here in her better aspects; but the sin of our day was held against our return to earth.

One day I left behind the recreated scenes of my childhood. The focus shifted to experiences from my later life after departing Pitach Rhok for Caiphul. I found myself immersed in gaining knowledge, even to the level of a Xio-Incala—a degree surpassing that of any modern scientist. This phase of the afterlife soon passed, though, as I hadn't actually reached or even attempted such a level on Earth, leaving me without a real foundation for these experiences. Time flowed around me, sometimes spent with the true spirits of deceased individuals I'd worked closely with on Earth, allowing us to reap the rewards of our collaboration. At other times, I was alone with my thoughts, which seemed as real as actual people—indeed, everything felt absolutely real. Lolix appeared here in her better aspects, but the sin of our time held us back from returning to Earth.

It seemed perfectly natural to meet Anzimee one night as I wandered by the shore of a sea adjacent to an artificial wilderness, where all things were arranged in harmony with my ideal solitude to which, in Caiphul's busy whirl, I had one day dreamed of taking her when we should be wed. It was sweet when we met to hear her call me "husband," and the peace after action was all delightful as I had imagined it would be.

One night, as I strolled along the shore of an artificial wilderness, I encountered Anzimee. The setting perfectly matched the ideal solitude I had once dreamed of sharing with her after our marriage, away from Caiphul's bustling activity. When we met, it was heartwarming to hear her call me "husband," and the tranquility following our union was as blissful as I had imagined it would be.

But my pen is in advance of its proper place. To return to the den:

My thoughts are getting ahead of themselves. Let's go back to the hideout:

Without disrobing, for the air was warm, I lay down and slept. When I awoke I passed down the hallway into the garden. A change had come over. I was older; the landscape was different, and the houses were more like that which my maturer needs had painted as a necessity while I still lived near Pitach Rhok. No longer was a river in the foreground, but a broad sea with only the near shore visible. The change was correspondent with the later desires of my youth. These alterations, though startling as considered from an earthly, physical standpoint, were not startling nor even remarkable to me. What sort of life or condition was this which permitted such changes, yet did not present itself as anything extraordinary to me, the beholder? Even truth should not be told in prolix phrase, and all that can be replied now is that it wag the life after death, to be slightly paradoxical. But this is not the Great Life with God.

I woke up and walked into the garden, still fully clothed in the warm air. Everything had changed. I felt older, and the scenery was different. The houses now resembled what I had imagined as necessary when I lived near Pitach Rhok. Instead of a river, there was now a vast sea with only the nearby shore visible. These changes aligned with the desires of my later youth. Although these alterations would have been shocking from an earthly perspective, they didn't seem unusual to me. What kind of existence allowed such changes without seeming extraordinary to the observer? To put it simply, this was the afterlife – though not yet the ultimate life with God.

Was time consumed in effecting these changes, or was this an Aladdin's lamp sort of land where a rubbing out of one and an installation of another set of appearances took place instantaneously? I did not even pause to consider, for no such conjecture occurred to me. To me things were real. Is earth real? Spirit, God, is real, and the earth and universe are the fiat, or externalized ideas of God. The things of earth are words of God's great Word, speaking to us. So, too, are the things of devachan or heaven. Both are real, oppositely so, but only real within us, not without us. I sought my father, Merin Numinos, and asked: "How long have I slept?" It was no more anything but a habit of thought to ask this, for I had no other motive. That, in the process of death, habits of mind do not suffer extinction together with life's memories of events, was proven by my action on hearing my father's reply:

Was this transformation instantaneous, like Aladdin's lamp, or did it take time? I didn't stop to ponder, as such thoughts didn't cross my mind. Everything seemed real to me. Isn't Earth real? Spirit and God are real, and the Earth and universe are their manifestations—God's externalized ideas. Earthly things are God's words speaking to us. The same is true for the things in devachan or heaven. Both are real, but in opposite ways, existing within us rather than outside. I sought out my father, Merin Numinos, and asked, "How long have I slept?" This question was merely a reflex, born of habit rather than genuine curiosity. The fact that I asked it proved that mental habits survive the death process, even when memories of life events don't.

"Even several years hast thou slept."

"You've been asleep for many years."

"Years!" dost thou exclaim? It, was no remarkable thing to me to hear this account of a Rip Van Winklian nap. No, but my habit of mind which took pride in neatness of personal attire caused me unwittingly to glance at my raiment to see if it were not, the worse for such long wear. The allusion to several years attracted my attention, so that having found my attire presentable, though I still gazed at my clothes, it was is an absent-minded way. I said:

"Years?" you exclaim? Hearing about such a Rip Van Winkle-like slumber didn't surprise me. However, my habit of taking pride in my appearance made me instinctively check my clothes, wondering if they had suffered from such prolonged use. The mention of several years caught my attention, so even after finding my outfit acceptable, I continued to stare at it absentmindedly. I then said:

"Thou sayest years; also another thing, 'thou has slept, ever since; thou camest into this country.' Now, I pray thee,. have I ever been elsewhere?"

"You say 'years,' and another thing: 'You've been asleep ever since you came to this country.' Tell me, have I ever been anywhere else?"

Receiving no reply, I looked up, only to meet a stare like that of a statue from my father. He evidently knew nothing, of any previous state, nor, by the very form of my question, did I know more than he.

When I got no answer, I glanced up to see my father staring at me blankly, like a statue. It was clear he had no idea what I was talking about. And honestly, given how vague my question was, I realized I didn't know much more than he did.

Death was another thing, never referred to, because in the instant when promoted souls find it no more possible to impress their existence upon those left behind on earth, they recognize that they are in the midst of the change called death, of which they were perhaps apprehensive all their earthly days. As the exoteric religion then, aye, and now, also, taught but one death, the devachanee knew or conjectured no other. Hence, death to the disembodied soul was and is an unknown conception. Well, there is no such thing as death for a fact. Likewise pain and sorrow. Devachan the minor is like devachan the major (Nirvana), a state particularly referred to in Revelation xxi: 4. Now, my friend, I am not postulating an argument; I must refuse to argue, and though it savor of medieval methods, yet must I also refuse to reason with thee. It is the purpose of this history to state what I know by experience; I state no theoretical ideas. If thou wilt take any small matters left unexplained into the inner sanctuary of thy soul and there meditate over them, then will they become clear to thee, and be as the water which quencheth all thirst, if so gained. hast thou ears to hear? Then heed that counsel. I address only those who follow these pages for profit.

Death was never mentioned, because the moment souls transition, they realize they're experiencing death—something they may have feared their whole lives. Since religions typically taught only one death, those in the afterlife knew or imagined no other. Thus, death was an unknown concept to the disembodied soul. In reality, there's no such thing as death, nor pain and sorrow. The lesser afterlife is like the greater one (Nirvana), a state described in Revelation 21:4. I'm not arguing or reasoning here. This account aims to share my experiences, not theoretical ideas. If you meditate on any unexplained points, they'll become clear, quenching your thirst for understanding. Are you listening? Then heed this advice. I'm only addressing those reading these pages for insight.

Am the devachanee knows of but one change, and, an that is so different, from what he was religiously taught to fear, therefore many souls entering heaven conceive at the moment of death that no death exists, and that the teachings received on earth from priests were but ecclesiastical fictions. Nor are they so far wrong, for there is no other death than the mere change from objective to subjective states of being, save the second death, spoken of in my final page. To be paradoxical, death is different because not different, so far as they can perceive, from the swift view of the life just closed, a view all souls have, however brief it be. Hence it was that I was unaware of the fiction called death when I asked the father I found there if I had not always been there.

The soul in the afterlife experiences only one change, which is so different from the fearsome concept taught by religion that many souls entering heaven believe at the moment of death that death doesn't exist. They conclude that the teachings of priests on Earth were merely religious fabrications. They're not entirely wrong, as death is simply a transition from objective to subjective states of being, except for the "second death" mentioned later. Paradoxically, death feels different because it doesn't feel different from the quick review of one's just-ended life that all souls experience, however briefly. This explains why I was unaware of the concept of death when I asked the father I encountered if I had always been there.

Religion taught in that old age as it now teaches, that with death came the cessation of all earthly sorrow. This is true for a time limited by the length of the soul's sojourn in devachan. These earth-born mists do not intrude there for the reason that being earth born they must of necessity have abiding places on earth and influence only those on earth.

Religion, both then and now, teaches that death brings an end to earthly sorrows. This holds true for a limited time, determined by how long the soul remains in devachan. Earthly troubles don't reach this realm because, being of earthly origin, they must stay on Earth and only affect those still living there.

"The evil that men do lives after them."

"The harm people cause outlives them."

Verily; and in the form of crystallized disposition to do wrong, lies in wait for their return to earth life; it is the wrongly so-called "Adamic" tendency to sin, and while the sinner is free of its power in devachan, the seed, like tares with the wheat, is ready to grow a harvest of sorrow along with the growing life of the new incarnated one; and until some good action shall atone for evil done, this evil will continue to grow. Fortunately, man hath an eternity in which to make repayment, [*1] and though following God's laws and being true to right, whatever its source, the tares are little by little uprooted. A good act is the erasure of a bad, and once performed is "oft interred with the bones," thus completing the philosophy of Hamlet.

Indeed, the tendency to do wrong lies dormant, waiting for our return to earthly life. This is often mistakenly called the "Adamic" inclination to sin. While we are free from its influence in the afterlife, the seed of wrongdoing, like weeds among wheat, is ready to grow alongside the new incarnation, bringing forth a harvest of sorrow. Until good deeds atone for past wrongs, this evil continues to thrive. Fortunately, we have eternity to make amends. By following moral laws and staying true to what is right, regardless of its origin, we gradually uproot these weeds of wrongdoing. A good act erases a bad one, and once performed, it is often "buried with our bones," thus completing Hamlet's philosophy.

All about me were those I loved. As time seemed to lapse, I became conscious of the presence of one and another of my friends. Anzimee, Menax, Gwauxln, Ernon, Lolix without the shadow, all those and thousands more who have no name to the reader were there. They did not come; no, they were with me, each as I had conceived. These were my concepts, for they were subjective, not objective; they were my ideals, not real people; and they formed my world. It occurred not to me that they were not real. Did it ever occur to thee, reader, that the world of thy senses is the only world thou hast? That, if thou hadst no sight, smell, hearing, taste or touch, that thou wouldst have no world even though thy soul were imprisoned in a body thus dead, yet alive in a vegetative way? As the soul of each living man, woman or child, is different from every other soul, so also the world is different to every person--not the same precisely in any two cases. Now it is the record of the soul, made on imperishable mental substance, which constitutes much of the life after the grave; the record merges into a reality, and all seems equally real, just as real as when the combined senses first perceived it; in verity this after life is a reconstituted and inverted earth life, subjective now, instead of objective. My supposed friend may be a real enemy, yet if I die thinking him or her my friend, that concept is the one carried into the after life, and vice versa.

Around me were those I loved. As time seemed to pass, I became aware of my friends' presence, one by one. Anzimee, Menax, Gwauxln, Ernon, Lolix without her shadow—all these and countless others unnamed to you were there. They didn't arrive; they were simply with me, each as I had imagined. These were my perceptions, subjective rather than objective; they were my ideals, not real people, and they formed my world. It never occurred to me that they weren't real. Reader, have you ever considered that the world of your senses is the only world you have? That if you lacked sight, smell, hearing, taste, or touch, you would have no world at all, even if your soul were trapped in a body that was physically alive but essentially dead? As each person's soul differs from every other, so too does their world. No two people perceive the world exactly the same way. It's this record of the soul, imprinted on eternal mental substance, that forms much of life after death. The record becomes reality, and everything seems equally real, just as it did when first perceived by our combined senses. In truth, this afterlife is a reconstructed and inverted version of earthly life, now subjective instead of objective. A supposed friend may actually be an enemy, but if I die believing them a friend, that concept carries into the afterlife, and vice versa.

Thus, all about me were my friends. The things of my sense records, and the places, were the scenes where all these friends moved. But while I had thus my world about me, a concept of me existed in the imaged world of every friend I had. Not that I was with them, but their concept of me was with them. Thus regarding the reality of all those concepts that were non-involute, simple and easily assimilable upon being remembered from the astral record, or, so to say, memory plates of the Soul, of every incident, Small or great, simple or complex, impulse or even unconscious cerebrations. But now mark a feature of vast interest, inasmuch as it affirms what I have seemed to deny, any real association of the soul in devachan with other individual souls. Devachan would indeed be a drear heaven if the friends of mundane life were never aught but "dream faces." Dreams they are, if the incidents created in our hopes on earth, and in devachan set forth as real to all seeming, were a simple fact. But if, per contra, it were so complex that to solve its equation required the joint efforts of two souls working in harmony, then also in devachan the results of this complex act affected both these souls, and during the assimilation of its results, that is, during the crystallization of such results into traits of character, both these souls would as actually be together as ever they were on earth. If more than two people were involved on earth, so all these souls would congregate in devachan. When the process was complete, the separation came. So it happened that in one moment of assimilative experience all my concepts were only phantasms, m the persons of one's nightly dreams; the next moment wore complex, as my associates were real egoii like myself. To me all this was unknown; all seemed real, and so, perhaps, was so. But it is pleasant to feel that one works with a loved -son, lather, daughter, mother, wife or other friend; that the consequences of the more serious events of our daily lives here will bring us again together in the heaven of our hopes; that the wife thou takest to thy heart, and to whom on thy confident loving plans for the weal of thy loved ones, to realize which both thou and she must work nobly, earnestly, will come across the chasm which death spreads for thy bodies, and be with thee or thou with her, there in Navazzamin. Pleasant, that thy mother, father or other dear friend shall sometimes really be with thee there; and that together thou shalt garner thy various records, and enjoy in a seeming real that which was not on earth aught but a hope never; materialized.

In this world, I'm surrounded by friends—both physical and conceptual. My sensory experiences and locations form the backdrop where these friends exist. While I may not always be physically present with them, their concept of me remains with them. These simple, easily understood concepts are stored in the soul's memory, like astral records of every incident—big or small, simple or complex, conscious or unconscious. Now, here's an interesting point that seems to contradict what I've said about the lack of real interaction between souls in devachan (the afterlife): Devachan would indeed be a dreary heaven if our friends were mere "dream faces." While some experiences in devachan are based on unfulfilled hopes from earthly life, more complex situations that required collaboration between two souls on Earth will bring those souls together in devachan. They'll work together to process and assimilate these experiences, developing character traits as a result. If more than two people were involved on Earth, all those souls would gather in devachan until the process is complete. To me, this was unknown; everything seemed real and perhaps was. It's comforting to think that we'll work with loved ones—parents, children, spouses, or friends—in the afterlife. The consequences of our most significant life events will bring us together in this heaven of hopes. The plans you make with your spouse for your family's well-being, which require noble and earnest effort from both of you, will transcend death. You'll reunite in Navazzamin (the afterlife). It's reassuring to know that your mother, father, or other dear friends will sometimes truly be with you there. Together, you'll gather your various memories and enjoy what on Earth was only an unrealized hope.

In meeting Anzimee, who yet lived on earth, I met sometimes my conception of her, sometimes her own higher self. How was the latter possible? Because she so longed from me that it developed and enabled her to project her pure soul into my plane. This was not only pleasant and beneficial to her, giving her a hold upon things unseen, of which the apostle Paul speaks, but it was a holy joy to me to meet her thus; she could come to me, but I could not go back to her. There is no retrogression.

When encountering Anzimee, who was still alive on Earth, I sometimes met my own idea of her, and other times her higher self. How was the latter possible? Her intense longing for me allowed her to develop and project her pure soul into my realm. This experience not only benefited her, giving her a connection to the unseen world that the apostle Paul mentions, but it also brought me great joy to meet her in this way. While she could reach me, I couldn't return to her plane of existence. There's no going backwards in spiritual progression.

In communion with these ideals I had my reward, for nothing occurred contrary to my wish. But in experiencing this reward, I also unconsciously assimilated the value of the previous life on earth. Thus my connection with politics in Poseid had brought me in contact with men and manners, and from this contact were born schemes in which I was to have had a leading part. These schemes were now brought into the subjective state, and as such appeared to me to be in process. From these apparent actions my capacities were developed, and tests of the worth of my conceptions made. All of this resulted in making a concrete deduction which became a part of my mental being; hence in a new incarnation I would come forth to mankind possessed of phrenological organs of increased power in the handling of political and social questions. Perhaps this power would not be actively employed, owing to other tendencies being stronger; none the less the power would be augmented and ready for use upon demand. The same thing would prove true of all these souls really associated with me, both in previous-earth-and after-heaven, the results, values and summings-up of our contemporary devachan would give them new mental traits, or increase the force of their old ones, and reincarnation would reassociate us again on earth. And it has done so, else would I never have written this history for thy profit, dear reader. My education as a geologist at Xioquithlon was tested in this same subjective heaven, and from this came added ability as a geologist; in short, an intuitive knowledge of geology and desire for that study after reincarnation. Books would then serve to educe the geological bent I might manifest. I might go on with other instances of the summing-up, and arranging process experienced by those who have both the grave and the cradle between them and earth. But this will suffice to hint to the reader that truths lie here and sweeten the

In harmony with these ideals, I found my reward, as everything unfolded according to my wishes. Through this experience, I unknowingly absorbed the value of my previous earthly life. My involvement in Poseid's politics had exposed me to diverse people and customs, inspiring plans in which I was to play a key role. These plans were now in a subjective state, appearing to me as works in progress. From these apparent actions, my abilities grew, and the merit of my ideas was tested. This process led to a concrete understanding that became part of my mental makeup. In a future life, I would return to humanity with enhanced abilities to handle political and social issues. While these skills might not be actively used due to other stronger inclinations, they would remain reinforced and ready when needed. The same would be true for all souls truly connected with me, both in our previous earthly existence and the afterlife. The outcomes, values, and conclusions of our shared heavenly experience would give us new mental traits or strengthen existing ones, and reincarnation would bring us together again on Earth. Indeed, it has done so, or I would never have written this account for you, dear reader. My geological education at Xioquithlon was also tested in this subjective heaven, resulting in increased geological ability and an intuitive understanding of the subject. This would manifest as a desire to study geology after reincarnation, with books serving to draw out this inherent interest. I could provide more examples of this evaluative and organizational process experienced by those who have both died and been reborn on Earth. However, this should suffice to suggest to the reader that truths lie here and enrich the

"Thoughts of the last bitter hour . . . Of stern agony, and shroud and pall."

"Reflections on life's final, agonizing moments... Of intense suffering, death, and burial."

I hope, my friend, that this effort to render death less terrifying, by relating my own experiences of it, will be fraught with success, and that these words may so sustain thee that thou shalt

I hope, my friend, that this attempt to make death less frightening by sharing my own experiences will be successful. May these words provide you with such comfort that you will

"Approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dream ."

Embrace your end Like someone settling into bed, Wrapped snugly in soft sheets, Drifting off to peaceful sleep.

Zerah Colburn, the marvelous boy mathematician, did not acquire his knowledge in the schools of this modern age, but brought it, a legacy from the dead centuries, his past lives, his latent power was educed. I will not argue with thee, friend, that if thou hadst had a past life on earth, thou couldst "not have forgotten it, but would have brought memory of it with thee." No, I argue not. I only leave it with thine own intelligence to decide if I be not right, when thou rememberest that habits of life grow from repeated actions of boyhood, the details and every recollection of which are gone. And knowing that this is so, decide, if thou thinkest it not absurd, that actions of a life experienced century times centuries agone would be possibly recollected, more especially when all the intervals was spent on a different plane of life, whereon no single memory ever intruded, could not by the laws of God. I know whereof I speak.

Zerah Colburn, the prodigy mathematician, didn't gain his knowledge from modern schools. Instead, he inherited it from past lives, centuries ago. His latent abilities were drawn out. I won't argue with you, friend, that if you had a previous life on Earth, you'd remember it. Instead, I'll let you decide if I'm right when you consider how habits form from repeated childhood actions, even though we forget the details. Knowing this, determine if it's absurd to think we'd remember actions from lives lived centuries ago, especially when the time between was spent in a different realm where memories couldn't intrude, as per God's laws. I speak from experience.

At length there came a time when I cared no more for the appearance of action, nor for those concepts of persons, places, or things connected with seeming activity. Chiefly now I cared to remain in some quiet spot and listen to Anzimee, the real, not the concept, as she read to or talked with me. I slept much also. One morning I did not arise; I did not care to. I was not ill; no one ever knew illness in devachan. But I had lost all desire to see or hear more of anything. I did indeed feel languor, but not weariness. So I turned over again, facing the wall, and slept. It was the last occurrence in the last chapter of a life's long rest, which, though I knew it not, had covered twelve thousand years of the actions of men of earth. Death had never appeared in that home of the soul, for my concepts did not die, they only disappeared from the view of their creator. Even the real souls of men or women did not die. No. But when they came, one after another, to the retributive awakening at the cradle, if their lives in heaven were still associated with mine, if they had not gone elsewhere in devachan, as neighbors on earth separate and put the world between them, then they disappeared, just as my concepts disappeared when I had assimilated their value. They disappeared, because all the deeds of previous earth life had crystallized as traits of character, and they were ready for earth life again. Only myself could be conscious of my own change; I could not be conscious of theirs. I was ready for activity once more. I slept, and in this sleeping died out of that life of passivity into the waking of earth, a babe in a cradle. Born to see my Master in this life, and enter the Great Rest with him!

Finally, I lost interest in the illusion of action and the concepts of people, places, and things associated with apparent activity. I preferred to stay in a quiet place, listening to the real Anzimee read or talk to me. I also slept a lot. One morning, I didn't get up; I didn't want to. I wasn't sick—no one ever got sick in devachan. I just didn't care to see or hear anything more. I felt languid, but not tired. So I rolled over, facing the wall, and went back to sleep. This was the final event in the last chapter of a long period of rest, which, unknown to me, had spanned twelve thousand years of human history on Earth. Death never appeared in this realm of the soul. My mental constructs didn't die; they simply faded from my view. Even the real souls of people didn't die. Instead, when they reached their karmic awakening at rebirth, if their heavenly lives were still connected to mine and they hadn't moved elsewhere in devachan (like neighbors on Earth who move apart), they disappeared. This happened because all their previous earthly deeds had solidified into character traits, preparing them for another life on Earth. Only I could be aware of my own transformation; I couldn't perceive theirs. I was ready for action once more. As I slept, I died out of that passive existence and awoke on Earth as a baby in a cradle. I was born to meet my Master in this life and enter the Great Rest with him!

NOTE.--But one will come after me who shall tell thee more of the Great Deep of Life than I. Await her words.--Author.

Note: Someone will follow me who will reveal more about life's profound mysteries than I can. Wait for her insights. ——Author

End of Book First

End of Part One

Footnotes

Notes

^225:1 II Samuel, xii, 28.

[2 Samuel 12:28]

^226:1 Eccl. ix, 10.

[Ecclesiastes 9:10]

^236:1 Do not confuse "repayment" with "atonement." Jesus makes atonement for us with God. We can only begin to repay, when, having obtained forgiveness through Jesus, we try to Live Him. Until we consecrate ourselves to Christ, we can not have recognized that we are HIS because HE owns us. When we recognize this, then we recognize that HE owns us, and we own HIM. Then, but not until then, can we even begin to repay our karma. And if we "Go and sin no more," then HE will equalize our to karma, and we be released unto HIM, released or leased again! Karma closes for one who thus is atoned for, and his opportunity for reparation begins. For such an one no more incarnation is necessary, for hath he not the SON? And that is Eternal life. What mean I by having the Son? And by being consecrated to Christ? In this, then, only the church postulate? Nay, more, friends. The Divine is eternal, infinite. The Human is finite. When the awakened man comes to know himself, he chooses which way he shall go. The choice is the crossing of the Divine by the Human; it is ownership by the Son. which in within.

Don't mistake repayment for atonement. Jesus atones for us with God. We can only start to repay when, after receiving forgiveness through Jesus, we try to live like Him. Until we dedicate ourselves to Christ, we can't recognize that we belong to Him. Once we do, we understand that He owns us, and we own Him. Only then can we begin to repay our karma. If we "go and sin no more," He will balance our karma, and we'll be released to Him anew. Karma ends for those atoned for, and their chance for reparation begins. Such a person needs no further reincarnation, for don't they have the Son? And that is eternal life. What do I mean by having the Son and being dedicated to Christ? Is this just church doctrine? No, it's more than that. The Divine is eternal and infinite. The human is finite. When an awakened person truly knows themselves, they choose their path. This choice is where the Divine and human intersect; it's ownership by the Son within us.