by John Edward
But despite his fluency with the language, he knew that there were no words in English, or any language to describe the exotic beauty of this scene.
“It is beautiful,” POTUS said, knowing even as he spoke that the words were woefully inadequate.
“Look again,” IRA said. “Look beyond the beauty.”
POTUS did look again, and as he did so, he opened his heart to see a road develop, the road flanked by more structures as magnificent as the one he was standing before. The new buildings seemed to be edifices of every type of architecture through the history of mankind, including some that had not yet been developed or created. In an instant, POTUS could identify every building and its purpose. He knew that as clearly as if there had been a descriptive sign in front of each one, yet no such signs were in existence.
“It’s funny,” POTUS said. “I know what all these buildings are, even though there are no signs.”
“Here, signs are not necessary,” IRA said.
They stepped into the Hall of Memory.
“You know, if all the world leaders could have access to this great hall and see the history and issues mankind has experienced, the world would get along in a much more harmonious way. Why doesn’t God—?”
“Please don’t call it by that name!” IRA said.
“So, why doesn’t … who, what?”
“The Source,” IRA replied.
“All right, the Source. So, why doesn’t the Source allow man to see and feel this? I mean, when I became President of the United States, I was briefed about so many mysterious and unique things that the public has no clue about. Why is there no public record?”
“There are such records, sir. They are ignored.”
“What are you talking about? There are no such records of all the worlds’ memories like this.”
“It’s called a history book, sir. People just tend to ignore what they read and treat it as a mere story. Something that doesn’t affect them, doesn’t apply to them. Or so they believe. Lessons that were taught, and experienced, are only learned by a small few who try to teach them. The sad truth of humankind is that most ignore those lessons.”
“Why doesn’t someone tell us? Why must we wait until we get here before we find out?”
“You have been told, many times. This is how malevolence infiltrates. Mankind likes to play the game of God, play the role of being spiritual, while all the while ignoring their history. It’s only been a few short Earth years since some of the greatest cycles of human destruction in your world … some in the same span of human lifetimes—yet—history repeats itself—stupidity is what the Governor calls it. The last century of your earthly lifetime saw the most amount of genocide at the hands of each other in the history of mankind. And now the potential for death and destruction is even greater. That kind of energy fuels the Dark Forces to grow in its power and strength.”
“Again, IRA, how can He—sorry, the Source—or anyone else here pass judgment?”
“That is my point, sir. Someone who is here in this place—if they are pure of heart—cannot.”
“Wait a minute. Are you telling me you think that the Governor of the Council is corrupt?”
“I am saying that I am telling you the rules of this place.”
“That isn’t right,” POTUS said. “Something has to be done. There must be a private committee meeting or group to create a review board—a heavenly democracy.”
“Sir, we must be wary of speaking this to anyone here. I am not certain of who sees what. May I dome you so we can speak freely?”
POTUS nodded his assent and he found himself and IRA surrounded by a blue-glowing dome aura. He felt a sense of separation from everyone and everything except IRA who was inside this bubble with him.
“I wasn’t sure I could share this with you before,” IRA said. “I needed to know that you had the principled strength and moral courage to handle it. Especially as it deals with the Council of Elders.”
“What are you trying to tell me, IRA?”
“Sir, I think the Dark Forces, a corrupt energy, has infiltrated even this level. I think some on the Council of Elders conspired to bring you here on purpose—had you killed—because if you had stayed in office, you would have been contacted by one of the Fallen Masters to alter the Dark Forces and raise the Light energy.”
“What? Are you sure of that?” POTUS asked, putting as much anger into his response as he could, shouting the words, even though it was a shout that was projected and not vocalized.
“I am reasonably certain, yes, sir.”
“This is outrageous! It is beyond contempt! Do we not have enough evil on Earth? Does heaven itself has to conspire to kill me, to take me away from my family?”
“It is not all who are here. It is just a corrupt element of the Dark Forces,” IRA said.
“I thank you for allowing me to see this, IRA. You have helped me to open my eyes, and with that I can try to heal and evolve. Please help me to do whatever you feel I need to here to make sure that I am not earthbound or led down the wrong path. And I vow to you, that we will work together to reveal the wrongdoer.”
“You are doing fine, sir,” IRA said. “Now, let me show you what is next.”
CHAPTER
54
POTUS looked out at the landscape—or heavenscape, as it were—and nearly gasped in awe at the sight. His vision here was acute, as was his hearing and other senses, though he somehow understood that without a corporeal self he really had no senses at all. Perhaps his memory had been liberated, and his consciousness could recall every smell and touch, every sound and sight, every sensory incident he had experienced in his lifetime. And what he was experiencing here on the Other Side was filtered through those sense-memories in a way that made them now equally as intense as the past—or, more accurately, with the sum of all things past.
Here he stood, apart from his guide and from every other being of this plane, and gazed upon the tiers of time that were arranged like mirrored reflections—and reflections of reflections without end. IRA was somewhere else—he was not sure where.
Images of people, like himself, and angels—very unlike himself—moved in masses without colliding. There was no evidence of chaos, only harmony, no imposed order, yet a unity of movement and purpose.
He felt that he could enter any tier and experience the unique life that it represented. Yet he strongly sensed that to enter one would in no way exclude participation in any other. Whereas on Earth he might find this very thought contradictory and frustrating, here his consciousness did not linger on such seeming absurdity. There were no roadblocks on the path to understanding.
Was this, in fact, heaven? Was this any place at all in a dimensional sense?
The President “heard” himself laugh aloud, which resembled the clear, liquid tone of a bell or a pipe of some kind. There was no echo or reverberation—because, of course, he had no eardrums. There was only sound, or the memory of sound.
“If this is the case, I have no voice,” he said to no one. “Perhaps I don’t need a voice. Perhaps I have nothing to say.”
A warmth filled his spirit being. He knew a comfort level with this new self that he had never felt in his life on the earthly plane. Even though he remained uneducated in the newness of his existence and still unacquainted with God, or whatever the Source was that was the Creator of all he beheld, there was no fight in him, no resistance to the unknown that stretched out before him in every direction and in dimensions beyond his ability to count them.
With his family now left behind on Earth, he felt tethered in a way; he could “tune in” to them at will, and on some level he wasn’t completely separated from them. He hoped he never would be.
From the steps of the Great Hall where he stood, there was no limit to his vision. He also saw innumerable souls—whether they were people or angels, he could not know—wherever he looked, and he sensed that he could be seen, in turn, by any of them who happened to be looking back in his direction.
Their faces were clearly delineated no matter how far or near they stood. Who were they all? What were they thinking? Were they, like him, newcomers to this dimension or beings long departed from Earth? POTUS smiled inwardly at the clichéd but appropriate thought: “Time will tell.”
CHAPTER
55
The tour of his new home—or place of residence—continued even as POTUS experienced an odd sense that he had seen some of these “buildings” before, some of them many times. Had it been in the seemingly short time he had already been here…? His tour guide, IRA, reminded him that none of these places were places he was able to gain access to on his own.
“Yet you can see virtually everything ‘inside’ and ‘outside,’ can you not?” IRA probed.
“I can see the earthly planes in a limited way. Some of my vision is still unclear, as if it were immature. But I can feel them—the earthly planes and the people of Earth—very strongly.”
As IRA spoke, POTUS became aware of a new presence.
The being said nothing but hovered so close that the President could almost breathe it in. It seemed like hours, or even days, though it was much less in real time. Then the being was no longer there, leaving POTUS and IRA alone in conversation as they had been before. It became apparent to POTUS that IRA could not see or sense this new presence. A name came into his head, unspoken but as clear as a siren: “I am Caleb.”
POTUS accessed the memory of the intoxicating feeling of light and vitality he had known in only moments of being in Caleb’s presence. He wondered who Caleb was … and why IRA couldn’t see him. The one thing that struck POTUS so strongly, however, was the incredible wave of what felt like love wash over him when Caleb “arrived” and he suddenly felt sad that the presence was gone.
Messengers, guardians, and guides—a celestial “workforce”—were arrayed behind the figure who communicated with him now. But they were not idle. POTUS somehow (and he wasn’t sure, at this point, just how it could be) knew that their images were available to him, even if they were present elsewhere doing the work they were assigned on Earth. He was beginning to understand that this was less a place than a state of being or a dimension that he had entered upon his transition from life on the earthly plane.
If it were physically possible to smile, POTUS would have done so. He was pleased that knowledge was coming to him now consciously and rapidly, as opposed to the struggle he had undergone during the first stage of the transition to the Other Side.
“If I am on the Other Side,” he said to IRA, “I want to see my father.”
“In due time. You have to trust us to guide you into this new realm. There is much you must absorb first.”
“But why can’t I—?”
“You can. In fact,” IRA said, “you can have it all, when you are ready.”
POTUS did not like this answer. It made him angry, which surprised him, because he thought he wasn’t supposed to feel anger in this new situation … or was he? He was still more than a bit confused about what was and was not expected of him.
Then he felt a warm, reassuring hand on his soul. He knew that couldn’t be right, because there was no corporeal reality here, no touching of bodies. But it was very real, and he wondered what it could be. Then that voice came into his consciousness. Again, he understood immediately that for some reason IRA could not hear this voice, even though he, the newcomer to this dimension of existence, could—loudly and clearly. Then he knew who it was; it was Caleb again.
“All shall be revealed to you, dear son. Know that your father is here among us—and that your son is safe and alive in the world of humankind. There is no cause for you to be concerned, or to be angry.”
He was bathed in a bright, mysterious light in which he could see nothing—and everything. His heart was reassured, even as the newest presence introduced itself to him. Silently, he wondered what this presence was—or who it was. A single word, a name, came to him again: Caleb.
He accepted the mysterious element as something that he wasn’t meant to understand—yet. And he kept his silence on the subject. Instead, he spoke to IRA: “I don’t want it all. I want to reconnect with my kin. I just want to know that they are well, that we will be together in the long run.”
The presence known as Caleb planted a new thought within POTUS: “You have the opportunity to get it right—now and in the future. Take your time, and all shall be made known to you when you are ready to receive the fullness of knowledge. Take care to make the right choices. That is the key—here and now and always.”
IRA was chattering away, but POTUS was having troubling hearing him, absorbing the guide’s words and concepts as his thoughts were diverted by Caleb. Again, he wondered silently why IRA could not see or hear this other presence. It intrigued him. Were there differences and “politics” even here on the Other Side? Were there rivalries and divisions? If so, he must indeed be careful to make the right choices as he progressed on this new path—especially if his goal was to know his own father and to be able to help his son from this side of existence.
This majestic being known to him as Caleb was, he understood as he gained clearer insight, his own true guide. IRA, who had seemed so powerful and clever to him at first, now faded in his estimation to a secondary level, and he began to question IRA’s bona fides as a spirit guide and mentor. He always felt more baffled and unsure after a conversation with IRA, rather than more confident in his knowledge of what was happening to and around him.
In the end, what POTUS wanted and needed was to be in contact with his son and with his family who had passed over before him. IRA, he now felt, was keeping him away from them. Caleb, on the other hand, at least held out the promise of a pathway to be with them, with the ones he loved.
Words formed in his mind that the being Caleb put there in his way of communicating with the President: “The choice lies with you. As with all created beings on Earth and in the heavenly realm. This is the essence of our existence: free will. That is something that most human beings simply do not fully understand, despite ample evidence and the spiritual teachings that are available to them.”
“What choice? To be with my son and wife, even though I’m dead? To reconnect with my own father and the rest of the family who departed before me? Of course, this is what I choose. I only lack the means to act on that choice.”
“But it is so much more than that. Just as you have been selected by the Council of Elders to help bring about change in lives on Earth, you must look inside yourself to see whether you wish to take on this responsibility and to gain the understanding it will take to accomplish it. The end result of your choice—and your action—will bring about what you most desire. Happiness is available to anyone who is willing to take the right action and make the choice that is most beneficial to others. Where humans so often err is when they focus on making the choices that are beneficial to themselves first and others secondarily, or not at all.”
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
“Very simply put and the core of all wisdom when it comes to human relationships. Could it be more clear than that?”
“The things we were taught as children, then, in school and in religious training, turn out to be the keys to true understanding.”
“Yes. There are teachers all around us, for good and ill. In classrooms and places of worship, at home and in the village, and all teachers of good say basically the same thing. And all teachers of evil, too, influence the minds of men and women in the same way.”
“But I don’t understand what IRA is supposed to teach me and how he is to influence me.”
“By questioning, you have your own answer. Ask and you shall be answered. Knock and the door shall be opened to you.”
Caleb’s message was baffling in its simplicity. And POTUS understood, too, that he, like any human being at whatever stage of life—or after—must be exposed to both good and evil in order to understand the nature of the choices that lay before them.
“It’s like the Garden of Eden being replayed, only at the end of time instead of the beginning,” POTUS said. He had not even had the conscious thought, but the words came out in that way.
“You have received the insight you were meant to receive because you are open to it, not closed off by darkness, but opened by light. Happy is the man, such as you, who can see clearly not only in the light of day but in the darkest hour of night.”
“But is hope lost for the many who cannot see?”
“Hope is never lost. No matter how dark and dangerous the hour. Hope can triumph. Always.”
Caleb, whose visual imprint had changed from an awesomely bright and beautiful creature to a small and slender man the same size as IRA or the Governor, stood—or hovered, as it were—close to POTUS. The President could feel the spiritual power almost as a physical presence, as warmth and sense—even without the human body, which he had shed but which he yet remembered vividly—the nature of pure goodness and light which stood by him. It conveyed a sense of power and energy he had not felt since he had passed over from one realm to the other at his own death. The President was pulled out of the encounter with Caleb by IRA’s sharp words.
“Focus on what I am trying to teach you!” IRA cautioned, in response to his unspoken thoughts. He saw that POTUS was distracted but was not able to identify the cause.
“I am sorry if I seem distracted. It’s just that I have many questions, and you are trying to teach me so much. I feel as if I am starting to read too many different books and not finishing any of them.” POTUS’s mind continued to reel, and he struggled to get a handle on his thoughts, so many new and conflicting images and ideas. “The overwhelming feeling of purpose and need seems to be growing stronger within me. And I know that you are helping me as quickly as you can, but I feel like the people and energies here—the Council—they just don’t like me. It is so clear by the wave of feelings that are directed at me every time they are near me.”