“What happened?” I asked. “Where did he go?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied.
“What was happening to him?”
“He was experiencing a Life Review.”
I nodded.
“Are you aware of what that is?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know that people who have had near-death experiences often report that their whole lives flash before them. Is that what you mean?”
Wil looked thoughtful. “Yes, but the increased awareness of this review process is having great impact on human culture. It’s another part of the higher perspective provided by a knowledge of the Afterlife. Thousands of people have had near-death experiences, and as their stories are shared and talked about, the reality of the Life Review is becoming part of our everyday understanding. We know that after death, we have to look at our lives again; and we’re going to agonize over every missed opportunity, over every case in which we failed to act. This knowledge is contributing to our determination to pursue every intuitive image that comes to mind, and keep it firmly in awareness. We’re living life in a more deliberate way. We don’t want to miss a single important event. We don’t want the pain of looking back later and realizing that we blew it, that we failed to make the right decisions.”
Suddenly Wil paused, cocking his head as though hearing something. Immediately I felt another jolt in my solar plexus and heard the dissonant hum again. Moments later the sound faded.
Wil was looking around. The solid white environment was shimmering with intermittent streaks of dull gray.
“Whatever is going on is affecting this dimension too!” he said. “I don’t know if we can maintain our vibration.”
As we waited, the dull streaks gradually diminished and the solid white background returned.
“Remember the warning about new technology in the Ninth Insight,” Wil added, “and Williams’ comment about those in Fear trying to control this technology.”
“What about this group of seven coming back?” I asked. “And those visions that Williams was having of this valley in the nineteenth century? Wil, I’ve seen them too. What do you think the visions mean?”
Wil’s expression grew more serious. “I think all this is what we’re supposed to be seeing. And I think you are part of this group.”
Suddenly the hum began to increase again.
“Williams said we first had to understand this Fear,” Wil stressed, “in order to help resolve it. That’s what we have to do next; we have to find a way to understand this Fear.”
Wil had barely finished his thought when an ear-shattering sound tore through my body, pushing me backward. Wil reached out for me, his face distorted and out of focus. I tried to grab his arm, but he was suddenly gone, and I was falling downward, out of control, amid a panorama of colors.
OVERCOMING THE FEAR
Shaking off the vertigo, I became aware that I was back at the falls. Across from me, under a rocky overhang, was my pack, lying exactly where I had placed it earlier. I looked around: no sign of Wil. What had happened? Where did he go?
According to my watch, less than an hour had passed since Wil and I had entered the other dimension, and as I thought about the experience, I was struck with how much love and calm I had felt, and how little anxiety—until now. Now everything around me seemed dull and muted.
Wearily I walked over and picked up my pack, fear welling up in my stomach. Sensing too much exposure in the openness of the rocks, I decided to walk back into the hills to the south until I could decide what to do. When I had crested the first hill and started down the slope, I spotted a small man, perhaps fifty years old, walking up to my left. He had red hair and a thin goatee and wore hiking clothes. Before I could hide, he spotted me and headed straight my way.
When he reached me, he smiled cautiously and said, “I’m afraid I’m turned around a bit. Could you direct me back to town?”
I gave him directions south to the spring and then on to the main stream, which he could follow west to the rangers’ station.
He appeared relieved. “I ran into someone east of here, earlier, who told me how to get back, but I must have made a wrong turn. Are you also heading toward town?”
Looking closely at the expression on his face, I seemed to pick up a sadness and anger in his personality.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m looking for a friend who is out here somewhere. What did the person you met look like?”
“It was a woman with blond hair and bright eyes,” he replied. “She talked rapidly. I didn’t catch her name. Who are you looking for?”
“Charlene Billings. Is there anything else about the woman you saw that you can remember?”
“She said something about the National Forest that made me think she might be one of those searcher types that hang out around here. But I couldn’t tell. She warned me to leave the valley. She told me she had to get her gear and then she was leaving also. She seemed to think something was wrong out here, that everyone was in danger. She was actually very secretive. Frankly. I didn’t know what she was talking about.” His tone suggested he was accustomed to speaking with directness.
As friendly as possible I said, “It sounds as if the person you met could have been my friend. Where did you see her exactly?”
He pointed toward the south, and told me he had run into her about half a mile back. She had been walking alone and had headed southeast from there.
“I’ll walk with you as far as the spring,” I said.
I picked up my pack, and as we walked down the hill, he asked, “If that was your friend, where do you think she was going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Into some mystical space, perhaps? Looking for utopia.” He was smiling cynically.
I realized he was baiting me. “Maybe,” I said. “Don’t you believe in the possibility of utopia?”
“No, of course not. It’s neolithic thinking. Naive.”
I glanced at him, fatigue beginning to overwhelm me, trying to end the conversation. “Just a difference of opinion, I guess.”
He laughed. “No, it’s fact. There’s no utopia coming. Everything is getting worse out there, not better. Economically things are swinging out of control, and eventually it will explode.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s simple demographics. For most of this century there has been a large middle class in the Western countries, a class who have promoted order and reason and carried a general faith that the economic system could work for everyone.
“But this faith is beginning to collapse now. You can see it everywhere. Fewer people every day now believe in the system, or play by the rules. And it’s all because the middle class is shrinking. Technological development is making labor valueless and splitting human culture into two groups: the haves and the have-nots, those who have investments and ownership in the world economy and those who are restricted to menial, service jobs. Couple this with the failure of education and you can see the scope of the problem.”
“That sounds awfully cynical,” I said.
“It’s realistic. It’s the truth. For most people it takes more and more effort just to survive out there. Have you seen the surveys on stress? Tension is off the scale. Nobody feels secure, and the worst hasn’t even begun yet. Population is exploding, and as technology expands even more, the distance will grow between the educated and the uneducated, and the haves will control more and more of the global economy, while drugs and crime will continue to soar with the have-nots.
“And what do you think,” he continued, “will happen in the underdeveloped countries? Already much of the Middle East and Africa is in the hands of religious fundamentalists whose aim is to destroy organized civilization, which they think is a satanic empire, and replace it with some kind of perverted theocracy, where religious leaders are in charge of everything and they have the sanctioned power to condemn to death those they consider heretics, anywhere in the world.
“I’m telling you: law and order and respect for human life are on their way out. The world is degenerating into a mob mentality, ruled by envy and revenge and led by shrewd charlatans, and it’s probably too late to stop it. But do you know what? Nobody really cares. Nobody! The politicians won’t do anything. All they care about is their personal fiefdoms, and how to retain them. The world is changing too fast. No one can catch up, and that makes us just look out for number one and get whatever we can as fast as we can, before it’s too late. This sentiment permeates the whole of civilization and every occupational group.”
He took a breath and looked at me. I had stopped on the crest of one of the hills to view the impending sunset, and our eyes met. He seemed to realize he had gotten carried away with his tirade, and in that moment he began to look deeply familiar to me. I told him my name and he responded with his, Joel Lipscomb. We looked at each other for another long moment, but he offered no indication that he knew me. Why had we met in this valley?
As soon as I had formulated that last question in my mind, I knew the answer. He was voicing the vision of Fear that Williams had mentioned. A chill ran through me. This was supposed to happen.
I looked at him with a new seriousness. “Do you really think things are that bad?”
“Yes, absolutely,” he replied. “I’m a journalist, and you can see this attitude playing out in our profession. In the past we at least attempted to do our job with certain standards of integrity. But no longer. It’s all hype and sensationalism. No one’s looking for the truth anymore or trying to present it in the most accurate way. Journalists are looking for the scoop, the most outrageous perspective—every bit of dirt they can dig up.
“Even if particular accusations have a logical explanation, they are reported anyway, for their impact on ratings and circulation. In a world where the people are numbed and distracted, the only thing that sells is the unbelievable. And the pity is that this kind of journalism is self-perpetuating. A young journalist looks at this situation and thinks that to survive in the business he has to play the game. If he doesn’t, he thinks he’ll be left behind, ruined, which is what leads to so-called investigative reports being intentionally faked. It happens all the time.”
We had proceeded south and were making our way down the rocky terrain.
“Other occupational groups suffer from the same condition,” Joel went on. “God, look at attorneys. Perhaps there was a time when being an officer of the court meant something, when the participants in the process shared a common respect for the truth, for justice. But no longer. Think about the recent celebrity trials covered by television. Lawyers now do everything they can to subvert justice, intentionally, trying to convince jurors to believe the hypothetical when there is no evidence—hypotheticals that the attorneys know are lies—just to get someone off. And other attorneys comment on the proceedings as though these tactics are common practice and absolutely justified under our system of law, which is not true.
“Under our system, everyone is entitled to a fair trial. But the lawyers are beholden to ensure fairness and correctness, not to distort the truth and undermine justice simply to get their client off at all costs. Because of television, at least we’ve been able to see these corrupt practices for what they represent: simple expediency on the part of trial lawyers to enhance their reputations in order to command higher fees. The reason they’re so blatant is that they think no one cares, and obviously no one does. Everyone else is doing the same thing.
“We’re cutting corners, maximizing short-term profits instead of planning long-term, because inside, consciously or unconsciously, we don’t think our success can last. And we’re doing this even if we have to break the spirit of trust we have with others and advance our own interests at the expense of someone else.
“Pretty soon all the subtle assumptions and agreements that hold civilization together will be totally subverted. Think what will happen once unemployment gets to a certain level in the inner cities. Crime is out of control now. Police officers aren’t going to keep risking their lives for a public that doesn’t notice anyway. Why find yourself on the stand twice a week getting grilled by some attorney who’s not interested in the truth anyway, or worse, writhing in pain while your lifeblood runs out on the ground in some dark alley somewhere, when no one cares? Better to look the other way and do your twenty years as quietly as possible, maybe even take a few bribes on the side. And it goes on and on. What’s going to stop it?”
He paused and I glanced back at him as we walked.
“I guess you think some spiritual renaissance is going to change all this?” he asked.
“I sure hope so.”
He struggled over a fallen tree to catch up with me. “Listen,” he continued, “I bought into this spirituality stuff for a while, this idea of purpose and destiny and Insights. I could even see some interesting coincidences happening in my own life. But I decided it was all crazy. The human mind can imagine all sorts of silly things; we don’t even realize we’re doing it. When you get right down to it, all this talk of spirituality is just weird rhetoric.”
I started to counter his argument but changed my mind. My intuition was to hear him out first.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it sometimes sounds that way.”
“Take for instance the talk I’ve heard about this valley,” he went on. “That’s the kind of nonsense I used to listen to. This is just a valley full of trees and bushes like a thousand others.” He put his hand on a large tree as we passed. “You think this National Forest is going to survive? Forget it. With the way humans are polluting the oceans, and saturating the ecosystem with manmade carcinogenics, and consuming paper and other wood products, this place will become a garbage bin, like everywhere else. In fact, no one cares about trees now. How do you think the government gets away with building roads in here at taxpayer expense and then selling the timber at below-market value? Or swapping the best, most beautiful areas for ruined land somewhere else, just to make the developers happy?
“You probably think something mystical is happening here in this valley. And why not? Everyone would love for there to be something mystical going on, especially considering the diminishing quality of life. But the fact is, there’s nothing esoteric happening. We’re just animals, creatures smart enough and unlucky enough to have figured out we’re alive, and we’re going to die without ever knowing any purpose. We can pretend all we want and we can wish all we want, but that basic existential fact remains—we can’t know.”
I looked back at him again. “Don’t you believe in any kind of spirituality?”
He laughed. “If a God exists, he must be an exceedingly cruel monster of a God. There couldn’t be a spiritual reality operating here! How could there be? Look at the world. What kind of God would design such a devastating place where children die horribly by earthquakes and senseless crimes and starvation, when restaurants toss out tons of food every day?
“Although,” he added, “perhaps that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Perhaps that’s God’s plan. Maybe the ‘end times’ scholars are correct. They think life and history are all just a test of faith to see who will win salvation and who won’t, a divine plan to destroy civilization in order to separate the believers from the wicked.” He attempted a smile, but it quickly faded as he drifted into his own thoughts.
Finally he quickened his pace to walk up even with me. We were entering the sage meadow again, and I could see the crow tree a quarter of a mile away.
“Do you know what these end-times people really believe is happening?” he asked. “I did a study of them several years ago; they’re fascinating.”
“Not really,” I said, nodding for him to go on.
“They study the prophecies hidden in the Bible, especially in the boo
k of Revelation. They believe that we live in what they call the last days, the time when all the prophecies will come true. Essentially what they think is this: History is now set up for the return of the Christ and the creation of the heavenly kingdom on Earth. But before this can occur the Earth has to suffer a series of wars, natural disasters, and other apocalyptic events predicted in the Scriptures. And they know every one of these predictions, so they spend their time watching world events very closely, waiting for the next event on the timetable.”
“What’s the next event?” I asked.
“A peace treaty in the Middle East that will allow the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem. Sometime after that, according to them, a massive rapture will begin among true believers, whoever they are, and they will be snatched off the face of the Earth and lifted into Heaven.”
I stopped and looked at him. “They think these people will begin to disappear?”
“Yeah, that’s in the Bible. Then comes the tribulation, which is a seven-year period when all hell breaks loose for whoever is left on Earth. Apparently everything is expected to fall apart: giant earthquakes destroy the economy; ocean levels destroy many cities; plus rioting and crime and the rest of it. And then a politician emerges, probably in Europe, who offers a plan to pull things back together, if, of course, he’s set up with supreme power. This includes a centralized electronic economy which coordinates commerce in most parts of the world. To participate in this economy, however, and take advantage of the automation, one has to swear allegiance to this leader and have a chip implanted in one’s hand, through which all economic interactions are documented.
“This Antichrist at first protects Israel and facilitates a peace treaty, then attacks later, starting a world war that ultimately involves the Islamic nations, Russia, and finally China. According to the prophecies, just as Israel is about to fall, the angels of God swoop down and win the war, installing a spiritual utopia that lasts a thousand years.”
He cleared his throat and looked at me. “Walk through a religious bookstore sometime and look around; there are commentaries and novels about these prophecies everywhere, and more coming out all the time.”
The Tenth Insight: Holding the Vision Page 5