by Krishna Rose
“Eternity is attained by full relinquishment of all self-serving actions—repentance alone is not sufficient,” he said frankly. “We have been given so many examples of this within holy scripture: ‘But flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall you not eat. And surely the blood of your lives will I require for the hand of every beast taken. I require it!’—The Lord spoke this and still many heed not His word.
“He also taught, ‘To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices unto Me? I am full of the burnt offerings of rams and the fat of beasts, yet I delight not in the blood of bullocks, nor of lambs, nor of goats, nor of doves. When ye spread forth your hands, I shall hide My eyes from thee, and when ye make many prayers and supplications, I shall not hear your cries—for your hands are full of blood.’ Still man heeds not the Lord’s will. Therefore, He is not hearing their petitions, for they disobey His laws.”
Reaching into his sack, Cherubim lay a soft velvet bag in my hand.
“What lies inside this bag, is the rarest of stones, for it comes with a history. A long time ago, this very same gem belonged to the Supreme Being, who gave it as a gift to one of His Queens. It was known throughout the worlds as the Shaman-Taka jewel. Holding great power in its grasp, it provides healing to any who come into its presence, more so, it can grant wishes. Therefore, it has been protected by the angels for over three-thousand earthly years—until now.
“Its power is so great, that it has been kept hidden from those who would use it for their own cold-blooded benefit. The stories of it were recorded in hieroglyphs, tapestries, art, folklore and music—like a secret hidden behind another secret. Every ruler since, has searched the three worlds to recover what you now hold in your palm. You are henceforth to be its guardian, for there is none better than you to be its bearer and protector,” he said tearfully.
Rapt in concentration, I held the jewel reverently in my palm. The golden stone was to become a blessing and a curse to the descendants of our family, reminding us to remain thankful and humble before the Lord, who is beneficent. My long loosened hair billowed in a most mysterious way, as if a miracle had occurred. And it had.
“You live to teach lost souls the way, else truth may be lost forever behind the liars who lead society and hold truth under lock and key. They fear plain talk and exposure,” Cherubim said wistfully.
“May I make a wish, Cherubim?” I asked, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
“The jewel is yours to do as you see fit my Lady,” he said, bowing politely. “Believe in your inheritance and ask anything you wish.”
“I wish to see John the Baptist,” I said clearly, squeezing the stone tight in my right hand.
Immediately the heavens froze. Clouds halted in the sky, the birds became silent, and from within the stillness, I saw a man in rags walk towards me. My heart skipped a beat. I still feared him even now.
“Why did you do it?” I asked him, surprised by my question, even as the words fell from my lips.
“Mariam, forgive me for what passed between us. Even the most holy, fear desires of the flesh,” he said with sincere sadness. “For lust carries with it a great strength which conquers even the mightiest of men in a moment of weakness. I have repented to God for my sins against you, and for this burden—I was shown the garden of Paradise and sent from it,” he said regretfully.
“And though you are the one I hurt, it was God who was offended by me,” he said with downcast eyes. My heart was deeply moved and I felt great pity for him.
“I wish for your redemption, John. Fear not Brother, for all is as it should be,” I said sincerely, clutching the stone in my hand, hopeful of its magic.
“You shall hereby be released from the burdens you have carried like a ball and chain into Heaven,” I declared, weeping tears of regret. “You are forgiven, John. Now go forth and let us meet in the Kingdom of eternal grace,” I said expectantly.
“I have paid a great price for my sins, Mariam. Please tell our daughter that her father loves and watches over her. And though she knows me not, I shall again have the privilege of fathering her in a righteous way in some distant lifetime. It has been shown to me. You are the second of the two expected ones and I am sorry that I doubted you. Perhaps I envied you for being a woman.
“Through you, the world will see how divinity cannot be denied. And by your example and legacy, the bile of humanity shall cleanse itself. The disorder which once gave chaos unto the people of the world, will be alleviated by your good works. Now I take your leave. I shall see you again in another life.”
And with that, John faded from me like a fog that lifted—both of us suddenly free of our bonds. It was a great relief to me. I sobbed having reconciled with my childhood friend and once husband.
CHAPTER 39
HEAVEN—VEIL TWO
AMONG THE SAINTS AND PROPHETS
Be not a stranger to your own heart and its demands, but search out the wealth within the soul where hidden jewels, like divine secrets, are waiting to be unlocked. It is there that you shall obtain your fullest satisfaction beyond all satiated imaginings.
Marigolds, smiling daisies, blooming chamomile, fragrant lavender, and velvet roses, drenched the second veil of Heaven in a summer atmosphere. I shook my head and felt my tousled hair sway in the breeze. It felt real, something to hold onto that I ‘knew.’
Sweeping stairs in all directions moved limitless displaced souls, carrying them from life to death. Many despaired, their limbs still mangled from their deathly wounds, even though they were no longer embodied. Delivering souls from what they had known as life, to the afterlife, they still carried the burdens and scars of death. The air was thick with anticipation, hovering eerily overhead like a shadow that had been abandoned. It seemed as if their earthy existence still held them bound, as many of them had fearful appearances, glancing cheerlessly here and there. By their expressions, I was able to see how desolate and lonely they were. Unable to grasp their spiritual nature, they disbelieved in the experience entirely, thinking it to be nothing more than a strange dream. Sleepily, they moved about as if they wrestled with a dark night of the soul.
The luminosity of the skyscraping stairs brought to attention the absence of light below. No one dared glance back at the darkness, for fear of what it held beneath its mystery. Occasionally an angel, whose broad wings extended upwards, greeted them—congratulating the new passengers on their stairway to Heaven. Though these souls were ‘dead,’ they were still very much alive, albeit dazed by their own resistance and uncertainty of the experience.
Many were met by faithful ancestors who explained that they were now in Heaven after having died, at which time they wept, wailing for their lost lives. Some, despite their good deeds and the stirrings of their own rebirth, were little prepared for the truth, sinking into confusion and panic.
Jesu suddenly appeared there among them—shining like the sun. As he addressed them, they wept uncontrollably, visibly overwhelmed. “Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are they who suffered persecution for justice sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Now that you have passed from the world of the living form, where illusions held your spirit bound, seek out your true nature at this time of renewal, for the veils of untruth have lifted. Mortal flesh and all its fleshly fastenings have left thee orphaned, yet here, the riches of Heaven are laid out before you and exalted blessings are given unto you as divine mercy. That which you waited for, is now at hand,” he encouraged them tenderly.
“The merits of your soul’s prudence has hereby been applied to your salvation. Rejoice therefore in the promised lands, for your righteousness has brought you forth from winter’s arduous crossing. Pilgrimage here among the Sai
nts and angels, to gather up the rewards of thy harvest,” he said, raising his hands to endow them with favor and grace. A deafening silence fell upon us, as a bright light streamed out from him, strengthening their resolve. My heart swelled.
“May the strength and love of the Lord forever be thy guide,” he told them, whispering prayers under his breath to help carry them forth.
He glanced my way, and the fire of emotion merged within our gaze. But then he was gone. I ran to where he had stood just moments before, calling out to him, but he did not reappear. My heart sank. Cherubim came beside me, now attired in robes of blue and gold. He had changed. In this veil, the top part of his head was decorated with a crown of silver stars.
“Mary, do not be sad. Jeshua appears to those who are faithful. He often comes and goes from these Kingdoms, like a shower of merciful rain on the desert-like hearts of the innocent dead. Because he has reached beyond mortal bounds, he can be in many places at one time, without any diminishment. It is my privilege to be your guide through Heaven, as I once was for your husband,” he said in a thoughtful tone, bowing his head low.
Humming unusually, Cherubim carried me upwards towards the higher realms, wielding his power of sound. Thousands of the living dead were relocating to their next destination. All kinds of people, who having left behind their homes and families, seemed sorrowful. I pitied them. Each of them held a beauty which is forever ablaze—beyond the land of the living—outside the bounds of the shapes and sizes we clothe ourselves with while embodied. It was as if they were physically here, but the rest of them was still somewhere else.
The atmosphere was aquiver with excitement. For as these pilgrims came around, their bodies became more distinct—radiant. What had been reality just moments before, was already fading from their memory. And as it did so, the light of dawn seemed to shine upon them and they were flooded with relief—quite forgetting their death.
“Only the virtuous walk on the passage of stairs—you need not pity them Mary, for they have come to enjoy the fruits of Heaven!” he said, looking down at me smilingly. It was as if the sound of my thoughts arrived in his mind—somehow connected.
“I’ve been wondering, what is the fate of those who kill for their faith, Cherubim?”
“Hmm, that’s a hard question, for it has many answers,” he replied, as we landed lightly on a carpet of swaying blue grass. “Those souls who kill for their faith—even as a divine duty—still break the laws of God. As such, their situation is precarious. However, since it was due to their belief, that they acted, suffering certainly will ensue, but not in Hell—for it is devotedness that led them to do what they did. Each case is different. Breaking the Lord’s commandment, especially that of taking someone’s life, is never tolerated by the divine justice system. In cases like that, most are reborn and themselves thrown into war torn countries where they suffer a death equal to the one they brought to pass.
“Before entering the next phase of existence, all living beings must first come here and bathe in these waters to leave behind their earthly identities. Without this, they are still so attached that they cannot move on. Mary, you too will also be required to bathe here before we can go further,” he said pointing to a serene pool, disappearing from sight.
This next level of Heaven was different than the last. The sky was deep azure, as if night and day had married in the air. The pool was still. Not even one ripple was upon its surface. It was as if time itself had been suspended. Looking into its glassy reflection, half immersing myself in the pool’s embrace, foreign sensations shivered throughout my being. Something strange was happening to me. I felt light-headed. My mind touched the relieving balm of surrender and I could sense my old heavy self, so full of worries, burdens and pains—and I took great pleasure in feeling them modify and transform.
These were no ordinary waters, for within them, seven penetrating lights circulated overhead, the colors of which I have never seen before. Allowing the welcoming energies to bathe me in their generous potential, first sorrow lifted, then fear—both evaporating in one moment. Next, I was freed of judgements, which had hidden themselves in the pores of my skin. The lessons of Heaven breathed new life into me, touching and moving me, shaping me—raising me from the dead.
There was a strange sound above, a sort of whispering which at first I could not understand, though I strained to discern its message. As the voices got louder, I was able to hear the prayers of many women. Lifted up, as if held by their pulsing sound vibration, I was carried on high, over miles of sweeping countryside. I trusted the encounter without hint of uneasiness, and as the whispering voices came closer, I recognized them, though I knew not who they were. Many of them spoke to me all at once.
“Mariam, we love you.”
“Esteemed Lady, you have been baptized of the light.”
“You are a holy vessel now, Mary.”
“Believe in yourself, Mary.”
“Mary, you are filled with grace.”
“Greetings Magdalene, you are reborn.”
After a while, my name held no affinity to my soul and at that moment that I detached, finding myself delivered unto eleven maidens with crescent moons upon their brows. Holding candles in their left hands, they chanted prayers over my renewed self, their delicate faces serene, sheer as silk. I knelt before them with palms folded in prayer, head lowered. One of them stepped forward, laying a circlet of moons upon my head. It was as if God’s breath was upon me, for the weight of human triviality vanished.
“We welcome you, Sister,” she said, crouching low to come face to face with me, speaking soft like a mother. “You have come to retrieve the gifts of the Great Mother and She offers you blessings on your journey through the realms of Heaven,” she said, anointing my brow with a fragrant oil, which I breathed in gratefully. She had lovely eyes, warm and welcoming, garnished by long black lashes. The oil’s balmy aroma had a haunting beauty to it, as if all the seasons had melded and formed crystals in the air.
The staircases still dominated the empyrean sky, and swarms of the newly-dead, having reached higher, now stepped forward with confidence. They were on a nomadic pilgrimage, seemingly unsure of their destination—yet compelled to transmigrate by the unseen forces of fate. It was epic—nay, enthralling! Cherubim appeared, tender-heartedly taking my hand, lifting me from my knees where I must have been for some time.
“The entirety of a person’s life is culminated by this rite of passage,” he whispered. “Each soul, ascends only as far as their prayers and achievements allow” he explained, pointing towards the risen dead.
The candles held in the hands of the Eleven flickered, like a prophecy aching to be fulfilled. “Accept your divinity, Mary,” they said, filling me with their petitions.
“Where are the whisperings and murmurs coming from?” I asked, staring eagle-eyed at the flames.
“The stairs are themselves forged of prayer and aspiration, and the afterlife is dictated by these merits—or the lack thereof. The appeals of the ancestors and of those who knew the departed, lengthen their steps, increasing their merit. And now, each of them face the reality of what they achieved in life,” Cherubim explained, as the Eleven closed in to encircle us.
“But why are some people going down?” I asked, painfully aware of the darkness below.
“They are leaving Heaven,” he said matter-of-factly. “They visited for as long as their good deeds allowed, and now, upon their completion, they must again return to earth to continue their unfinished lessons. Heaven is eternal, but those who come here do not remain here eternally,” he clarified.
“Our prophets spoke of a Kingdom offering eternal life. If the Kingdom is uncommonly attained, then my people have been misled!” I stated, troubled by these truths.
Hearing my d
oubt, Cherubim signaled the Eleven, who began purposefully droning in a vibration that instantly filled me with peace.
“Let me tell you a true story, Mary Magdalene. This will settle your mind and help you to understand,” he began, asking me to sit beside him, while the Eleven crooned maternally.
“There was once a faithful soul who went beyond Heaven to eternity. His name was Gop-Ak-Uma. He was a great devotee of the Lord who had earned a place in the Kingdom of God after many lifetimes of devotion and sacrifice. The lands I speak of, are far beyond the boundaries of Heaven—a place where souls go to attain eternal rest,” he said, appeasing me.
“Once a fortunate pilgrim achieves placement there, they never leave. Yet something was amiss. Gop-Ak-Uma was unsatisfied. Even though the palaces, roads, and people, were all luxuriously opulent and contented, he felt no attraction to them. Ordinarily, anyone fortunate enough to enter the Kingdom would never wish to leave, for there was such an abundance of happiness there. In fact, there was no ability even for one’s feeling dissatisfied. Therefore, he was an enigma. Even so, Gop-Ak-Uma was feeling discontented and frustrated.
“Muni, the Chief of Angels, came before him and said, ‘Yours is a very grave matter, for I see that your face is withered with worry. How is has this happened? As a rule it is not possible for anyone to be unhappy in these lands. Even so, I see that you are! So what is it? What are you lacking?’
‘“Such intense longing cannot be put into words,’ Gop-Ak-Uma explained. ‘By some means I have arrived here in this Kingdom where everyone is blissful and happy, yet in spite of it, I have a thorn in my heart that cannot be understood or removed.’
“The Muni could see inside the heart of all souls and knew all things. With his eyes closed in meditation, he ascertained the reason for Gop-Ak-Uma’s unhappiness and became very pleased.
“‘In the materially conditioned state of life, everyone is wanting for themselves. When a family member dies, for whom do they weep? Do they weep for the deceased, or for themselves? It seems that they are crying for their lost relative, but really they are not. They weep for their own loss, for their own pain, and their own suffering only, thinking to themselves, ‘Now who will take care of me? How will I live without this person. Who will I talk to? Who will I go to when I am in trouble?’” the Muni explained.