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Beyond Heaven and Earth

Page 91

by Steven H. Propp


  “You’re asking questions that are beyond my own level of knowledge and development,” Uncle Rick thought to me. “But since beings can continue to progress here—and usually much more rapidly than on Earth—I doubt that their development would be facilitated by returning to another earthly life; if they take remnants of their personalities and ‘karma’ with them, they might rather get worse and worse with each successive reincarnation. But don’t be so quick to despair about the fate of your homicidal artist friend: it took him twenty-one years of life to evolve into the kind of person he was. It is not surprising that it may require time for him to be able to evolve into another kind of person. He may spend a considerable amount of time as he is now, feeling terribly sorry for himself, and refusing any opportunities for introspection. But here, unlike on Earth, he will find no sympathy in his feeling sorry for himself. He will not be able to drown his sorrows in alcohol, drugs, and sensual experiences, in order to numb himself to the awareness of his own faults. Moreover, here he will have no friends or confidants—he has not even the Journal he kept—before which to try and justify himself and his behavior. In such an environment as this, one often can come out of a state of despondency and self-pity rather easily. Eventually, once a period of personal pain ends for him, he may be able to look around himself, and realize that he is not in such a bad place after all. He may even start to wonder why he is here, and what he should be doing now that he is here. Once he has taken that first step in the process, he will find that there is abundant support for him here, as he makes his first fledgling moves in the direction of spiritual progress. With all of his external constraints and excuses removed, he may soon realize that the only thing holding him back is himself—and such knowledge often motivates us to action, to change ourselves.” I could sense the gentleness and compassion in my uncle’s thoughts, as he projected, “Remember that ‘time’ has a completely different conception for us, than it had on earth. Something may be a ‘long’ process by earthly standards, but one has all of eternity in which to undertake it. There is no ‘harm’ to anyone else if he delays correcting his mind, and no one else’s progress is being held back by his lack.”

  Once again, I was amazed at the degree of wisdom that my Uncle Rick now possessed. On earth, while he was a kind-hearted and generous person, he was certainly no theologian or philosopher; his own spiritual progress gave me hope for my own.

  However, I suddenly realized with shattering clarity that there was indeed one individual whose fate did concern me, intensely: Abraham. Although I had been trying to keep his fate out of my mind since my arrival here, I was suddenly filled with the burning need to know what had happened to him.

  Instantly, my Uncle Rick’s presence was gone, and I sensed Abraham’s. But Abraham was not present in the “direct” sense that Rick had been; it was like I was able to feel Abraham’s emotions, and thoughts, as if they were my own—and I knew that he felt joy; and contentment; and freedom. I could tell from his own feelings that he was well, and that he was finally happy, reminding me of the words of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. when he said, “Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last….” I realized how foolish had been my fears that Abraham might be suffering some kind of “eternal torment” for his suicide, or other actions on earth. Abraham’s sexual transgressions, his depression over his terminal illness, and even his suicide, what did they matter here? Living on Earth put all of us in virtually a state of temporary insanity, which is only relieved upon our deaths. Who among us had not thought of suicide at some point? Or of trying to escape from our problems in other, smaller ways? And who was to say that if any of us had been in Abraham’s situation, we wouldn’t have done exactly the same thing—without accomplishing as many positive things as Abraham had accomplished in his life?

  The things about Abraham that had eternal value were his unique personality, and what he did with who he was, while he was on Earth. No mere external action—even to the degree of taking his own life while in a state of profound unhappiness—could erase those things. One’s eternal destiny was not a simple matter of dying in a “state of grace,” such that your death at one particular moment in time would result in your eternal damnation, whereas your death five minutes earlier would have resulted in your eternal salvation—one’s eternal destiny is hardly that arbitrary: It is based purely and simply on who and what you are. There are no courtroom trials, with testimony and rebuttals; no “Book of Life” with one’s name either written or not written therein; no counting up of one’s venial sins weighed against one’s accumulated merit. You are simply who and what you are, fully revealed before the light of God.

  I became aware of Uncle Rick’s presence again, communicating to me, “Your friend Abraham has much to be done, and much growth to be accomplished; but you now know that he is well, and he is happy—far happier than he ever was on Earth, in fact. Without the limitations of physicality, he no longer suffers from the conflicts and anguish that he used to experience with regard to sexuality, and so on. Here, he has no congregations to worry about, no orthodoxy or theological standards he feels honor bound to uphold, and no national culture he feels constrained to support. In short, he is now free to learn, to experience, with a level and degree of freedom such as he never experienced while living on Earth.”

  It seemed as if I could again sense Abraham’s thoughts, telling me, “My friend, our Quest is indeed over; the Work, however, has just begun.” And I experienced a calming feeling of love, of understanding, of communion with Abraham’s own spirit. Whether we ever encountered each other again or not, I was unshakably aware of the “eternal” nature of our friendship, and of the deep spiritual ties between us, whose existence did not require physical proximity to each other.

  And suddenly, a thought intruded upon my mind, with an intensity that was almost frightening: The baby—what has happened to our baby?

  I was instantly wracked with remorse, for this was the first time I had even thought of the tiny life that Sophia and I had created, even for so brief a time. My anguished thoughts reached out to Uncle Rick: Where is he? Is he here, also? Will he grow, and develop? Can I see him?

  But I could sense Rick’s response, “Why do you want to see him? For what purpose? Is it just from some biological sense of pride, or ‘ownership’—such that you could look at this baby and say, ‘that’s mine’?” Rick’s compassion toward me was comforting, as he communicated: “Babies do not belong to us, any of us; they belong to themselves, and to God. Do you think that you are needed to take a hand in his upbringing here? Surely you don’t doubt that he will be taken care of, and that he will be infinitely better off here than he ever would be under your own tutelage? You have no need to worry about the eternal happiness and progression of babies who die young—they are all infinitely precious, and much loved here.”

  And so I realized that all forms of life—from the tiniest bacterium, to the simplest of insects, to the so-called ‘lower’ animals, to human beings—were lovingly taken care of, and cared for. “The very hairs of our head were all numbered,” as the gospel said. Why should I want to try and inject myself into the process of our son’s upbringing? If I did, my motivation would only be for my own satisfaction, and not for the baby’s own good; I could be assured absolutely that our son was well—for all of eternity—and that was all that mattered.

  I sensed Uncle Rick reassuring me, “Do not worry, no unique conscious personality can ever be lost. Even as infants, we develop distinctive aspects quickly: Mothers compare their children to other children, for example, saying that ‘this one is a lot livelier than that one is,’ or ‘this one is a happy baby,’ or ‘this one is a cryer,’ and so on. They are not in your presence now for the same reason that persons who were barbarian invaders in the days of ancient Rome are not: there is no reason or need for them to be. Their development would not be aided by your worrying over them, and you now realize that they are well an
d taken care of, so you need not concern yourself about them.”

  Then there was a meaningful pause in Rick’s thoughts, however, before added, “There are two individuals, however, whom it is the appropriate time for you to meet.”

  And his presence was again gone. In his place, I saw two individuals “standing” side-by-side. Although they were vastly different in appearance from anything I had ever seen, I knew instantly who they were: my parents.

  Mom…Dad…and I felt bathed in warmth, as their love swept over me.

  I had agonized about them so many times since their death. I had dreamed about what our possible “reunion” might be like—I had thought that there would be so much I had to say to them, so much we had to “catch up on”—but those thoughts now seemed so immature, so “earthly.” The long, fantasized conversations I imagined us having seemed embarrassingly absurd to me now: “Dad, thanks so much for taking out that extra-large Life Insurance policy; it really helped out Sandra and I.” “No problem, son.” “Mom, let me tell you about my last years in college, and about the jobs that I’ve had since graduating…” “Why, that’s very nice, son.” “But hey, enough about me. How do the two of you like this place? Pretty cool, huh?” The very idea of such a “conversation” was ludicrous.

  Here, there was no need to chit-chat, to describe “what’s happened since the last time we saw each other”—none of that mattered any more. You knew how someone was by seeing who they are now. My Dad and I had no need for any “heart-to-heart” talks—our hearts were already in harmony. There was no need for me to physically tell my Mom how much I loved her, how much I appreciated all of her sacrifices for me, how grateful I was for all of her love and support, and what a profound influence she had had on me—she knew it, with a far greater degree of certainty and eloquence than I could ever have conveyed to her in my own stumbling words. Now, I knew the truth: they were happy, and secure, and had no more fears or regrets; they were here for all of eternity, and they knew the same was true about me. We all had complete assurance about each other: what more could you want?

  And now, when they disappeared from my awareness, I had no sense of sorrow, regret, or incompleteness. When there was some purpose for our experiencing each other again, I knew that it would take place, but I had no anxiety, or impatience. Everything was whole, everything was right; everything is as it should be.

  And then my uncle’s presence was with me again.

  My feelings were similar to having had a good, long, healing episode of weeping on earth. I projected to my uncle, This experience of meeting people I had known is…so different from what I would have thought it would be like.

  “Perhaps now you realize why we do not simply let you conduct everything yourself, when you first arrive here. You would have simply met up randomly with certain people, without first grasping the essential change that has occurred in your own being, as well as theirs, by being here. The others who passed on before you are no longer the same as they were when you knew them: they are much different, because they have grown and developed spiritually—you can no longer relate to them in exactly the same way as you would have related to them on Earth. And yet, even if you are not in their presence, you and your loved ones are closer to each other now than you ever were while on Earth; on Earth, there was always a ‘filter,’ caused by the earthly situation. Now, you know with absolute certainty that no one will ever separate you from your loved ones again, so there is no need for anxiety, or impatience. We have been allowing you time to begin to become the kind of person who is ready to be reunited with your loved ones again.”

  How long have I been here? I wondered.

  I sensed his reply: “Earthly time has no meaning, here. On earth, they are going on as always: engaging in the usual wars, political arguments, economic turmoil, social disruption that they have always engaged in, making their short, miserable lives even more miserable. Do you miss any of that?”

  I communicated my intense distaste and rejection of the notion to him, and his thoughts continued, “Time passes differently here. There are no periodic ‘cycles’ such as you have on Earth, with the pattern of night and day, lunar cycles, seasons, and years determining how we measure and categorize everything. Here, there is no need to worry about or regret the past: the only time that matters here is now. The only interest we have in the past is to compare our attitudes today with our attitudes previously, to see if we have been making progress, because although we are constantly learning, there are no formal ‘lessons’ or curriculum, as such. You simply use your thoughts and memories to teach yourself what you need to learn. When it is time for you to undertake a lesson, you simply remove yourself from awareness of others in order to undertake the contemplation, for whatever period it requires. There is no ‘deadline,’ and no need to rush; things simply take as long as they need to take. You aren’t being ‘watched,’ you are not on ‘probation,’ nor are you required to reach a certain level of development by a certain point in time. The only thing that is of importance now is the ultimate result of a study or a contemplation: Did it help you to progress, or not? If it did, then it was good; if it did not, then it was simply a wasted exercise.”

  And I sensed that Rick’s presence had departed again; and yet, I knew that he hadn’t really left me—he would be here again, whenever there was reason for it.

  But I was not “alone,” because there was another presence here; a warm, gentle, loving presence.

  “Sophia!!!”

  She appeared in front of me, manifested in a visible form. She was even more breathtakingly lovely than I’d remembered her, in my thousands upon thousands of fantasies about her, while longing for her so deeply while I was on Earth—and now, at last: she was here with me.

  And my heart broke open, from joy.

  And I found myself kneeling at her feet. For I had truly done it. I had gone beyond Heaven and Earth, to find her. I was once again united with my beloved. And we would never be separated again…

  —C—

  REUNION

  Throughout my two years of study, I had imagined this moment, over and over again: I had imagined Sophia running joyously into my open arms, as we passionately embraced each other—frantically clutching each other as if we were afraid to turn loose for even a moment, for fear of being separated again. We would passionately kiss, holding each other as closely as if we would never again let go; ecstatically drinking in the sight, smell, and feel of each other, as our bodies interlocked once again.

  But such physical displays were not possible here. One did not run, one could not touch, much less taste or smell one’s beloved. There was simply: awareness.

  And I was aware of a tremendous, overwhelming sense of warmth and love coming to me from her; a love that I had feared was lost to me forever.

  And yet, it was…different.

  I realized that her spiritual state was hardly comparable to mine (how could it be, when she has been here for so much longer than I?), for my state was possessive, grasping, clinging; it was wanting to seize her and escape from this place, and to hell with the consequences, and to hell with spiritual development.

  Whereas her condition was more adequately described as: serenity.

  This can’t be! my mind raged. On Earth, whenever Sophia and I were separated from each other for even a day, we frantically embraced each other upon being reunited. We fell into each other’s arms, our bodies passionately intertwining, trying desperately to make up for the lost time. But here, she made no move, even

  though I knew we were able to physically manifest ourselves if we so desired. If we so desired…What has happened? How could even this place have so changed her? Unless…

  My suddenly feverish thoughts were clouded over with confusion and rage, which manifested itself in a thought which exploded from my raging mind: “You’re not Sophia!” I felt an indescribable hatred come into m
e, as my thoughts hissed, “You’re not my Sophia, you’re some kind of brainless imposter!”

  Her visible face gently formed a smile, and then I felt flooding through my mind a cavalcade of memories, as seen from her perspective: I saw her surreptitiously watching me while we were in class together, carefully arranging to “accidentally” get assigned to the same project group as me; I felt her hesitant thoughts as we began dating, the growth of her feelings towards me, and also her uncertainties about our differences in ethnicity, culture, and religion; I felt her fears about having me meet her family—especially her Papa. I understood her sense of guilt as our love rapidly progressed physically after we were engaged; I felt her deep joy when I agreed to wait until after we were married, and her gratitude when I agreed to convert to Catholicism, and to raise our children thus. I felt her uncertainty and hope, as we were married in a civil ceremony, and her happiness as we began to set up housekeeping; I knew the deep satisfaction and joy she felt as she realized she was pregnant, with the child that was conceived as the product of our deep love for each other. And I felt her tender sorrow and sympathy for me, as I stayed steadfastly by her side in the hospital, and as I was so sorrowful after her death.

  “Imposter”? I now realized the utter absurdity of the notion. I knew—without any possibility of doubt—that the figure now appearing in front of me was indeed my beloved one; my Sophia. And yet, how can she stand there, smiling, yet so apparently unmoved?

  “They’ve changed you, in this place!” I could feel my raging thoughts screaming senselessly. “They’ve done something to you! You’re not the same, they’ve brainwashed you into forgetting me, and our love! They’ve tried to turn you away from me, against me and our love—they had no right to do that! What we had together was ours, and ours alone!”

 

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