by Krishna Rose
“The instant a prayer is fulfilled, the teardrops you see, melt by the warmth of their fruition. Then, as the tree sways, it releases forever—the entreaty realized. All other petitions remain intact, chiming in the breeze for the angels to hear, lest they be forgotten. Many Saints choose to reside here and distribute dispensations. Doing so increases faith in the world of the living—for people love miracles. And that Mary, is the blessed service of us all—to increase faith,” he said, voice trembling, eyes closed contemplatively.
Dulcet bells rang in the distance. The sound rose up like a soul from a funeral pyre—rejoicing.
“Another mortal has risen!” Cherubim said, as an exultant tear fell from his watery eyes. “Amein!” he cried, holding his hands up high in the air.
“These orchards are a sanctuary for the fallen. The yearnings are here recorded, not in history books, but in trees—where they are suspended gloriously as a testimony of their spiritual aspiration.”
“Does everyone have their own tree?” I asked curiously.
“Yes. Each tree belongs to a different soul,” he explained, looking out over the measureless landscape. “Within these gardens, they are warmed by the sun of wisdom, that comes by way of life experience. Every inch of this land calls for people to leave their interminable darkness behind. It is like a blanket that gathers about us, comforting us in our darkest hours, kindling the flame of hope—spurring us forward.
“‘I am nothing without Your mercy,’ the people cry out desperately. ‘Save me!’ ‘Give me Your protection and compassion’—they plead. And when their souls are brought here to stand before the tree that has held their prayers intact, they weep, for they realize that their sacrifices and pain were the gifts of life which brought them forth.”
Falling to his knees, palms folded prayerfully, eyes closed, Cherubim wept. “Lord, I have crossed a turbulent ocean to be with You. Be pleased by my sacrifices, for I wish only to dwell with You in eternity. Therefore, please grant me, this fallen and desperate soul, a glimpse of Your divine Kingdom,” he cried in prayerful supplication.
His earnest appeal rose up like a cloud which hovered over a tree suggestively. There upon its branches, a tender rain poured, and at once, a newly sprouted crystal appeared. “This is my tree, Mary,” he said tenderly.
I stood in silence, gasping at the magnificence of what can only be described as an epitaph to all of life’s struggles.
“But why are you sad? Are you not appeased by the pleasures of Heaven?” I asked, confused by his apparent distress.
“Eternal triumph is all I have ever wished for, Mary. Yet as long as souls reject the Lord, I am bound by my commitment to serve the needs of others—for as long as people have need of mercy.”
“How so? If the Lord hears your pleas, then surely there is another who can take your position, that you might be free?”
“It is the plight of humankind that holds me here. I am not sad, not how you feel sadness. I feel the dripping despair of humanity and cannot turn away,” he said quivering, as rain drops fell. “People on earth weep because of their miserable situations, which are apparent to us in Heaven. The sorrows I experience, are not my sorrows—they belong to others. For that reason, my tree is full of tears,” he explained woefully.
“Standing before my mother tree, all the world’s sorrows are there for me to remember. I find it overwhelming. That is why I weep!” he said despairingly.
“Is it possible,” I reflected, “for us to ask the Lord if He would take these burdens from you? Perhaps He might annihilate the sorrowful impressions upon your mother tree, for Cherubim, they seem to have sickened your heart.”
I gave him a crisp nod and began to pray. Instantly, one by one, the icicles melted, the pooling of which disappeared into the pretty pink soil where the tree was rooted.
“No one has ever offered to pray for me, Mary Magdalene,” he said tearfully, touching his hand to his heart disbelievingly. He suddenly seemed so delicate. Fragile.
“These woes were never yours to hold” I cheered, “they belong to others! It is your compassionate nature that has held them here—while each soul has its own tree to hitch upon. Dear one, you have allowed the load of others to burden you by your simple goodness,” I said, grateful to have served this most noble of angels, who since my arrival, had become so dear to me.
“People’s struggles are hard to witness,” he said, sighing as the last of his icicles thawed.
“Be not like a feather in the wind, my angelic friend,” I told him. “Learn to recognize what is yours and what is not, lest their misery choke you.”
His silence and the changed look upon his face, made him appear like a ray of splendor. “I can well see how the Lord rests His light in you, Mary Magdalene,” he said kindly. “Your rank is indeed holy.”
Prayer requires God’s grace and our co-operation. It is the way in which we elevate our souls unto Him, setting aside the frivolities of the mind and the things of the world. With a humbled heart, the devout soul confesses their faults before God in a beatitude of devotions, which pour out naturally upon the closing of our bodily eyes.
CHAPTER 44
HEAVEN—VEIL SEVEN
The Vines of Nourishment
The Lord’s grace concedes to those who have the triumphant throne of the Kingdom firmly nestled within their sacred hearts, and it is by their benevolence that we are transformed and elevated.
The first thing I noticed, was that the staircases were scarce in this part of Heaven. For so accustomed was I to seeing them, that their absence was apparent.
We had come upon a land white as snow. At once I felt the familiar comfort of ground as it touched the soles of my feet, noticing how the snow here was feathery soft and warm, not cold as it is on earth.
“Here in this seventh veil of Heaven, pious scholars spend all their time in knowledge of God and His creation,” Cherubim said with a satisfied sigh.
Dominating the city was a fountain, tall and wide. Warm light flowed from its many mouths, like water, permeating the region with its hallowed influence. Elegant citizens, reclined here and there upon tufted velvet cushions discussing philosophy. Behind them, the trees were ablaze with fiery leaves, set against shining white branches. The atmosphere was profoundly peaceful, as the people here spoke not with their mouths, but their minds—while their expressions were tranquil.
“What you see here, is the energy source for all the fortunate denizens of the seventh veil. This fountain is laden with a drink of the gods, which like nectar, nourishes understanding, youthful vigor and serenity,” he said, leading me down to its perimeter
The patterned jewel tiles lit up as my bare feet touched them—guiding me down to the fountain.
“Bring my Lady a glass of nectar,” Cherubim requested an angelic attendant.
Forthwith I was given a carved glass, forged of pink crystal, in the shape of large scalloped shell. The smooth liquid inside had a fragrance which is impossible to describe. I breathed in its intoxicating aroma, understanding this to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Sipping the nectar, I felt it vibrate through every pore of my body, gushing to parts of me that I didn’t know could be reached by a drink. My head and breasts tingled. My feet and hands vibrated. Why, even my fingernails shimmered like glitter by its touch. An inner warmth stirred me. It was as if all mysteries were given as answers, and all earthly pain disappeared. I was at peace.
Seven fair youths draped in the finest garb, stepped forward, respectfully bowing their heads. With golden hair, white skin, and azure eyes, they looked every inch cherubic. Their movements were elegant, almost catlike.
“Heavenly intelligence has brought you to us, Mary Magdalene,” they said in unison—mind to
mind. “Accept these Books of Knowledge as a gift from our Heavenly Father,” they said, passing me two delicately bound books. Their volumes’ fleshy covers, carven, ornamented with hieroglyphic inscriptions. Immediately, I knew that within them lay the secrets of the unknown. Shivering excitedly, I thanked them for their gift.
The words inside the books pages seemed restless with a breathless desire to lavish me in their knowing, for the books trembled—shaking like leaves in the wind.
“The mysteries inside the pages of these collected works, offer one a thousand answers to a thousand questions, lessons the likes of which we are certain you have never learned. We hereby transfer to your vine, the inheritance of supernal understanding, by which your bloodline shall find nourishment. The tree of eternal wisdom offers you these insights, so that humanity might drink of your fount and attain that which our creator conceived of when bringing souls into existence. Seat yourself here upon this bench and receive from us the legacy of benediction,” they said congenially, offering me a comfortable place to sit.
The books were very large, yet light as a feather. Each one breathed, as if they were a living thing. Noticing that a confidential consciousness and personality pulsed within their pages, the Seven blushed and giggled like children—standing at a distance, observing my reactions as the pages opened up of their own accord, floating in the air in front of me.
“We ask you first to answer a question, which will dictate your revelation. Do you come for the redemption of mankind, or have you come as a beggar seeking relief from your suffering?”
Considering their question for a moment, I replied, “I have come to Heaven so that I might have the gifts of heavenly wisdom to offer as nourishment to the poor and infirm. Such suffering have I seen on earth, as well as in Hell, that I am indeed a beggar—though I come not to fill my own coffers, nor do I wish to quench my own thirst. My hope is to pour mercy upon the dried-up, faithless hearts of those bound by illusion. For too many suffer with no hope of change. As a result, I wish to share the goodwill that I have been endowed with,” I answered truthfully.
They stood very still, while I waited for their response. Seemingly they were discussing something amongst themselves. ‘They are like one soul with seven minds,’ I pondered.
“Do you come to us so that a new religion on earth might spring up from these vines you wish to nourish?” they henceforth asked.
“I come not to cultivate a religion—but to nurture faith in whatever capacity faith is being held. I have no motivation to divide the people, for I believe that faith is one. I wish to unite the people and teach freedom from such limited ideas, for we are all free to search for the Lord however we are so inspired. So many wars rage on earth due to suspicious notions of differences, while the true religion of the soul does not separate. It sees the unity of purpose between all faiths, which is to love God—and one another,” I clarified, so that they could understand my purpose.
Cherubim squeezed my hand in acknowledgment, and the Seven nodded, seeming to accept my answer. Relieved that I had expressed into words the finality of my purpose—my holy grail, I relaxed into the feathery bolsters.
“Can these books explain to me how we came into being? I have always wondered whether Genesis was accurately interpreted in scripture. As how can any man claim to know our origin when none were there to witness it.”
Amused by my question, the Seven smiled, seemingly twittering amongst themselves—only their eyes giving away their discussion. The pages of one of the books turned, searching for what was to be a very specific page—whereby a disclosure would be offered unto me. Once it had completed its pursuit, a staggering vision appeared from within its center.
A mighty armed being of great handsomeness appeared from inside the papyri. Illumined, He was adorned with many jeweled ornaments upon His muscular, yet seemingly delicate, fragrant body. As I moved far beyond all sense perception, waves of unhindered bliss entered my mind. I felt sure that He was the heart of universal intelligence, for thousands of celestial angels surrounded Him on all sides, fluttering serenely, fanning His indescribably astonishing body with their feathers.
Oceans, mountains, forests, earth, and sky—all of creation seemed to rest inside of Him. Mesmerized, I reveled in the clusters of light which from His form vibrated like a story waiting to be told. I paid homage with my heart, mind and eyes—feasting upon the sublime vision of loveliness before me. Freezing each time He looked my way, I felt ashamed, embarrassed—fearful.
Absorbed in the creation, He moved oceans through His body with one breath and all of nature breathed with him—nay, for Him!
“Move your consciousness into me Mary, and forever reside in my Kingdom . . .” His honeyed voice echoed. Captivated, I lost all external consciousness. “Glance upon a thing and know that I am in it. I am in you, and you are in Me,” He said, His divine essence reaching for my inner-most heart.
I was deeply and profoundly moved. The holy isle of the soul within, had been separate, and was now joined with its source. I had no need to make sense of it, for it had been an experience of enlightenment. My whole being trembled when He disappeared suddenly, leaving me overwhelmed. I wept lamentable tears of separation, grieving the loss of such a vision.
“What was this holy vision, Cherubim?” I asked, choking back my ears, gathering up my senses.
“You have witnessed the super-soul dwelling in the heart of all life. Residing beyond outer space, between the upper and lower portions of creation, the Lord exists both outside and inside of us, in His unfathomable supremacy. Now that your eyes have been smeared with the balm of immortality, you are to be granted a most extraordinary sight . . . Genesis!” he said excitedly, motioning for the book to again turn its enigmatic pages.
Suddenly I was hurled across the heavenly skies at great speed, though my body remained seated upon the bench. I was shattered. Nothing and no one could have prepared me for the formidable spectacle that awaited me. For there, lying in the lap of a vast water-lily, floating upon the surface of a milky ocean, lay a glorious sight.
God was reclined in a mystic sleep upon a giant serpent having thousands of heads. Protectively holding the slumbering body of the Lord within his lap, the snake’s wide hoods, defensively guarded and sheltered the Almighty. I cursed the creation of my human eyelids, for their blinking broke the spectacle, for but a moment, which suddenly felt like millions of moons. All of my movements slowed. Time stilled.
“This is the Karana Ocean—the Ocean of Milk. Here, the Lord, in a state of slumbering wakefulness, is concentrated upon the supernatural creation. The cosmic serpent of infinity, with his magnificent hoods, protects the Lord while He sleeps. The first-born sovereign brother of the Lord, supports our Creator on this primal cosmic sea, coiling his vastness to act as a bed, which the Lord then reclines upon. Sesha, as he is known to us, bears the Lord’s creation like a diadem upon his brow and is the God’s most faithful servant.”
The serpent’s thousand eyes cast rainbows by their glances. Its bright body was white like the moon. Prophets and Saints worshipped from a distance, with palms folded, offering limitless prayers unto God—who lay stretched out like a shining pearl inside the shielding shell of His brother’s chivalrous arms.
In one exhalation, all universes and living beings within them, were born from within the divine pores of the Lord’s slumbering body. And upon His inhalation, all of creation again was returned unto Him, destroying all forms of life by His breath.
The mystic opulence of the Lord was filled with unlimited eyes and mouths, expanding and contracting, as thousands of suns rose up at once into the sky. Bewildered, my hairs stood on end. I could see that there was no end, no beginning, nor any middle to what I saw. Fires of the sun came from within His body, orbiting the temporary worlds, created within the el
ement of time. Creation was sustained by Him in one moment, and then forced into obliteration in the next.
He was spread out throughout the sky, receiving people’s fearful prayers, while all devouring death came from all directions, rushing into His body at the time of annihilation—erasing sum and substance, like moths rushing into a blazing fire. The mighty dissolving of life and time.
Demons shook before Him, swallowed by His cosmic teeth, which from every pore on His body appeared. His limitless form pervaded everything with unbounded power. Seeing this form of God, instilled in me a great fear, for He was fierce, yet at the same time gentle. My mind could not fathom what I was witnessing. For while He revealed His universal form to me, filling me with wonder, so too was He slumbering gracefully, creating life and love out of celebratory jubilation.
Rivers and mountains came from His bones, while days and nights were but the twinkling of His heavy eye-lids. Millions of cooling moons came out from His mind, while the four seasons came from within the elements of His goodness, passion, happiness, and reflection. Pleasure and sorrow dissolved like the setting sun, only to then dawn but a moment later. Innumerable universes were thus born and buried, while His soft body, transformed from one moment to the next, the color of a night sky to that of daytime—ever changing.
At His feet, a Goddess, who was most charming to behold, held the Lord’s cherished feet within Her decorated hands, singing soft words of love, like a lullaby. Her skin shone like a thousand suns, while Her royal presence and sweet song, like a glazed spell, assisted the Lord, rendering Her the most faithful assistant of the infinite power of God.