As we walked on through the wood, we were very silent. Janet was smiling to herself, looking peaceful and calm, but I cast puzzled glances at our angel until he said smiling: “Well?”
Now the question I had wanted to ask the Divine Boy came tumbling out. “How can He be a Babe and a Boy at the same time?”
“Why not?”
“I can understand that they saw Him like that, according to their desires, but He talks, and teaches them – you kneel to the Babe as well as the Boy…”
I broke off, thinking I had not made myself clear. Janet was smiling as though to say “Oh. this Bernard. Who will try to understand with his mind, after all these Heavenly lessons!”
“Do you understand so well?” I asked her.
“Of course,” she said placidly. “I am so glad to see my Jesus that I do not stop to ask ‘how’ or ‘why.’ Why should I, since He is?”
“Why indeed?” I echoed, “but-”
“Ah,” said our angel, “there is a ‘but’,” I see.
“Yes,” I confessed, feeling somewhat small and humble, yet not unpleasantly so, for it always gives me a keen joy to follow Janet’s lead and learn from her serene faith.
“On earth,” our teacher began, “many people dream dreams and see visions, do they not? Yet because one man sees the Lord, does it mean that He is absent from all others at that moment? How could it be, since He is one with the Father, and since the universe would crumble into dust if He forsook it for an instant of time?”
“Again, did He not say, ‘This is My Body and this is My Blood… I am that Living Bread.’ Yet how many thousands kneel at altars all over the world at the same time? Did He not multiply the loaves and fishes, so that the food which was sufficient to satisfy one boy, was made enough to feed thousands? If He appeared in one body cloak only, how could He satisfy the longing hearts of all?”
“Think, also, that multitudes enjoy the sun’s heat at one time. They do no say, ‘this cannot he the sun because it is shining also on my brother.’ Millions of people look up at the moon. Though they are vast distances away from each other, they can all see it. Remember, Bernard, the illustration you came upon during your studies on earth, and which you found so helpful in many ways. You read that a man might hold up a piece of paper, and making five holes in it, thrust his fingers through. ‘What do you see? ‘ he could ask his pupil, taking care that only the tips showed. ‘I can see five fleshy objects.'”
“‘Are they separate – quite apart and distinct from one another? ‘Yes.’ Then the teacher would remove the paper and reveal the one hand. ‘Those five fleshy objects appeared to he distinct and appeared to move separately, yet they were all the time one with the hand, and under its direction. The one power of the hand moved the five fingers, though each seemed separate and independent.'”
“Now,” concluded our angel, “if four fingers and a thumb, all different sizes and appearance, can he controlled by one human hand, yet retain their reality and individuality, can you not appreciate that a Great Spirit could project itself into many forms, that wisdom could flow through these forms from one, spiritual Mind, that the power could spring from one Power, and the love from one Love?”
He stopped speaking and for a moment I was too amazed to speak. His illustrations had opened vistas of consciousness unknown to me before. At last I cried: “Oh, I am beginning to understand!” And to Janet: “Did you know that?”
“Of course not” she laughed. “It is all very wonderful, but quite unnecessary, really.”
“Unnecessary!” I echoed, and then I caught sight of the angel’s twinkling eyes.
“You and Janet,” he explained, “being two who walk together for eternity, have of necessity, different aspects of thought. It is the eternal ‘male ‘ and ‘female,’ the mind-thinking and the heartknowing. This is the real, enduring ‘male’ and ‘female’ principle. This mind-thinking and heart-knowing must ever unite so that at last perfect wisdom is born. It is a great mystery.” It is indeed,” I agreed with a feeling of awe.
“Now,” said our angel, “we have come to Trevor’s study.”
I looked up eagerly at this. We had entered another glade in the wood. It was arched with interlaced boughs through which the light filtered, tinted with green. The ‘carpet’ was of moss and the ‘walls’ were the sturdy trunks of trees. Here and there, flowers were springing up among the roots, and amid a colourful couch of them, a young man was sitting. He was robed in dove-grey, and he reminded us instantly of the student-angel in the Garden of Desire because he held a book upon his knee.
He made to rise at our approach, but our guide restrained him with a gesture. “We will sit with you.”
After some introductions, I looked into Trevor’s glowing brown eyes. “Is it study that makes you so happy?”
“Yes – and my Teacher.” At these words, Janet cried out in delight! “Does the Master teach you? What a wonderful privilege.”
“It is! Every evening He comes to me, as I sit here with my books. In the day time I receive those who desire to learn, and I pass on my knowledge to them.”
“Could they not come and hear Him too?”
“Yes, if they were ready. But He expounds deep mysteries. I give each of my pupils as much as they can understand.”
I had been looking round his study with great interest, and at last I asked: “Where is your library?
He smiled, then, indicating the book on his knee. “Here.”
“Just that one book?” I queried in surprise. “What is it?”
“Can you not guess? It is the Holy Bible. When I was on earth I used to read it every night. Sometimes I was so tired after my long day in the fields (for I was a farm worker) that I could only read a few verses. At other times I would pore over the pages until the candle burned out, Then I would lie down, thinking, ‘Oh, if I had someone to teach me what it means!'”
“Was there no church? “Janet asked.
“No, for the farm was so isolated, hundreds of miles away from the smallest village. Sometimes, when I had to go into the town to arrange for the sale of the farm produce, I would seek out the minister of the little chapel there. He was very kind, but a busy man, too. He used to talk with me for an hour or so, going over some of the difficult passages with me. One day as we said goodbye, and I was about to return to another four months of exile, he said, ‘Never mind, Trevor-when you get to Heaven you will know it all!'”
“I think he was half-joking, but I held on to that and never forgot it. I married and had children, and grew old. The children began to work the farm when I was too stiff in the joints to do much in the fields. But I still went on studying my ‘library’ and thinking of those words: ‘When you get to Heaven you will know it all.’ Well, I got here and I have Somebody to teach me now.”
“That is lovely,” Janet said, and Trevor murmured: “Heaven is fulfilment… “I love to remember that. It is the first thing the angels taught me.”
We continued our conversation while the light grew dim and the setting sun blazed a pathway between the trees. Presently, in the rosy glow, we heard footsteps, and Trevor looked up joyfully. “It is the Master!”
The trees parted, and the Beloved appeared. He came to stand behind Trevor, motioning us to remain where we were.
How ardently I gazed at Him! I remembered all the angel had taught me, and Janet’s serene faith, and wordlessly I cried to Him in my heart: “Lord, I believe – help Thou my unbelief!”
He understood. He just lifted up His Hand and signed me with the sign of the Cross, saying: “I am He.”
For a long time there was no sound or movement. We all sat entranced, while He poured out upon us the light of His wisdom and Love. It came flowing into my heart, pulsing within it like a song.
At last He leant over Trevor’s shoulder. Trevor looked up in smiling adoration, and then opened the book. The Master pointed with His finger to a verse. Breathlessly I watched the fingers move over the page…
“Come,” our angel whispered, “you are not ready for the mysteries yet.” Reluctant, but unspeakably happy, we silently crept away.
THE END
]]>“Then you had died in your sleep,” I said during the pause which followed Pedro’s last words. Yes,” he said “suddenly I was free! It was wonderful. Jesus and I went hand in hand and I was too happy over my unaccustomed movements to notice the way, nor the length of our journey. All I know is, that we came here.”
“You are very happy still,” Janet said softly.
“More than ever All the things I longed to do, we do together. Sometimes we go down to the beach, and walk far out over the sea, sometimes I swim round in circles while He sits upon a rock. Then we go for long walks over the hills. I think of the times I heard my earth friends setting out and yearned to follow. Then I realise the depth of my joy, for here I have the Divine Boy for my Companion.”
“All the time, He teaches me. Sometimes it is of high matters, when He prepares me for greater heights, for the days when I shall be a teacher. Other times, He shows me how to increase the power of my sight so that I may look into a tiny blossom and learn all the secrets of the universe there. Yet side by side with the Teacher, is the Boy. He laughs and runs with me, and suggests all kinds of new adventures.”
“Have you been to the Gates and seen your mystic robe?” I asked tentatively, for I had been wondering about this for a long time.
“Not in the way you have,” Pedro answered. “Jesus taught me about that, too, but He said I was shown the state of my soul, and all my faults and sins while I was still on earth. He explained that those five years of trial were used as a preparation, instead of doing my reparation here…. Listen!” he whispered, “I think He is awakening. Will you follow me?”
With beating hearts we rose up. Pedro entered a narrow path between the trees and stepping softly, soon led us into a glade within the wood. In its centre, lying on a couch of leaves, was the Boy. As Pedro had said, He was almost exactly his height and colouring, except for the darker lashes which flickered now on the sleep-flushed cheeks. As we came to a pause. He stirred and opened His eyes. I shall never forget that first glance from the clear eyes. He looked at each of us, then rising, said with boyish courtesy: “You are very welcome.”
Our angel was standing close by, looking intently at the Divine Boy. We did not know what to say. The situation was so new, yet so thrilling
“Pedro,” He said smiling, “tell your new friends not to be afraid.”
“Afraid?” Pedro laughed. “Ah, not of You, Jesus. How could anyone be afraid of You?”
We turned, then, and met the Boy’s gaze, and in that moment something seemed to flow from Him to us, an invisible cord linking our hearts to His, making Him familiar to us again. “Jesus,” I whispered. “My little King.” Janet just knelt and looked up into His face…”
We stayed a long time in the glade. Pedro went to gather some blossoms and the Boy made us look at one while He expounded its mysteries to us. We were entranced with His wisdom. He read the little flowers as though they were great tomes of deep learning, and yet, so simply and attractively did He speak, that His words did not sound out of place on the lips of a boy.
Presently, Pedro began to look towards the hills which were just visible between the trees where we sat. At last he said:
“Jesus, can we go for our walk now? You promised, just before you fell asleep.” The Boy looked gravely upon him. “Pedro, our guests are with us.”
It was quietly spoken, but Pedro saw his error instantly. He flushed and turned quickly towards us.
“How thoughtless of me! Please do forgive me. I do not really want you to go. It is just that, after five years of lying still, it is wonderful to be able to move. Sometimes, keeping still makes me forget I am free. You do understand?”
He looked so beseechingly at us that we hastened to reassure him. Our angel, too, lifted up his hand in a swift sign of blessing. After a while the Boy rose and stood looking gravely upon us. There was a question in my heart, and yet I could not bring myself to ask it – yet. He understood. He just lifted His hands in blessing. We fell on our knees to receive it; then, rising watched Him pass out of the wood and on to the path leading to the hills.
The last we saw of Him was on a slight rise in the ground. He was swinging along beside Pedro. His arm around the boy’s shoulders. Their robes fluttered in the breeze.
]]>Presently we came to an garden set close to the sea. There were not so many flowers in this, but mostly flowering shrubs, with shady trees leaning over broad lawns. These lawns sloped gently down to the beach. On the other side of the garden, a path led through trees and on to a rolling moorland. Far away, we saw its purple-clad summit topped with a rock, standing darkly against the sky. As soon as we approached this garden, we began to look about expectantly, and our angel said:
“Look, there is Pedro. He is the one we wish to see this time.” He indicated a boy sitting beneath a tree. He had one knee drawn up, with his elbow on it, and his chin rested on his hand. He was dressed in a robe of brown, coming about half-way between knee and ankle and girded at the waist with a cord. He was gazing thoughtfully out to sea, and did not hear us approach, but as we drew near he glanced up. Instantly he was on his feet, bowing deferentially to our angel and clasping us each on the shoulder. “Is He with you?” the angel asked.
“Yes,” said the boy, with a quiet exultation in his voice. “He is sleeping – we will not awake Him. Will you sit down and wait with me?” “Gladly.” We all found comfortable seats under the trees, and Janet asked: “Did you have a dream on earth, too?”
The boy turned to her with a kindling light in his eyes. He appeared to be about twelve. His eyes were very dark, his colour fresh, his curling hair was of the same hue as his robe.
“I had many dreams. They all seemed to mingle, though, so that they became as one, lasting for five years.” What a long time,” I commented. “Shall I tell you about it?” Pedro asked seeing our eager looks.
Well, I had always wanted to he a priest-or even a monkI wasn’t sure. I thought about it a lot and my parents were pleased, too. Then one day, when I was about twelve, I fell and hurt my hack. At first I thought I should soon be well. All day I used to lie so that I could see out of the window. I could not see the ground but that didn’t matter, for the tops of the trees were there! I used to watch the birds flying to and fro, bringing twigs to make their nests, for it was spring.
My back did not mend as quickly as I thought it would. My parents were very kind, brought me all kinds of books to read and other boys to see me. Most of all, however, I liked to watch the birds. I saw the mother-bird sitting on the eggs, quite close, and then the babies with their wide open mouths. I watched them grow and learn to fly, too. As they fluttered away, I would think, ‘Soon I too shall he able to move about, even as they.’ The time went on until I thought I knew many of the birds by sight. Then one day I saw them bringing twigs-and I knew it was spring again.
I cannot tell you all that meant to me. Despite the date, I had not realised that I had been lying helpless for a whole year. It gave me a kind of dreadful shock. Frantically I called for my father. (I did not dare ask my mother for I thought she would try to veil the truth from me.) When he came I just looked right into his eyes and said ‘Father, am I incurable?’ I think he knew by my face that I had guessed, as soon as he entered the room, for he did not attempt to evade it. He just looked back at me and said, “Yes, my son.”
“I did not say anything then, but just turned my face to the window so he would not see the tears on my lashes. He must have known how I felt, for presently he went away, closing the door quietly. Then I let the tears flow. Never to run again, or walk, or climb or play! Never to go to college and learn to he a priest – or a monk, or both. Just to lie here always…”
“Long afterwards, I fell into an exhausted sleep, and then it was that I had my first dream.”
He paused, looking out to the far horizon. No-one moved or spoke.
“In my dream, the door of my room opened,” he said presently. “I looked up, thinking my mother had come to comfort me. Instead, I saw a boy about my own age, come and stand beside the bed. He had my colouring, too, but his face was more pointed. He was dressed as I am now. I just lay there, looking at him, wondering who this new visitor could be. Then he smiled – and I knew Him. It was the Boy Jesus!”
“I stretched out my hand towards His as it lay on the coverlet, but I did not dare to touch it. He understood. He lifted my hand and held it between His own.”
“‘Pedro,’ He said softly, ‘You wanted to give your life to me by becoming a holy priest. Have you taken that life away?'”
“It has been taken away for me,” I mourned. “See, I have a useless back. Of what good is my life now?”
“‘It is of use to Me. Will you give it to Me again, to be all Mine, to do as I like with it?'”
“I did not know what to say to that. It seemed so strange that this Divine Boy should want a life so useless and dull. Looking into His eyes, though, I began to think it did not much matter why He wanted it, so I said, ‘Yes, Jesus.'”
“He smiled, then, and pressed my hand. ‘In life, everyone has trials,’ He went on. ‘Some are angry about them, and so they do not look to see if they can learn anything. The wise ones look at them, and inside them, too, to see what they can teach. Will you be one of the wise ones?'”
“By then I would have agreed to anything He wanted. I just: nodded and He said:
‘You would have hard trials as a priest, and they would have fitted you for Heaven, but I want you in Heaven before that, Pedro, so your trials have come sooner. These trials can teach you three things. One; to use your solitude in thinking of holy things. Two; to he patient in pain and weariness. Three; to forget your affliction; in being interested in those about you. If you strive manfully, you will not really lose any of those years of play, of adventure, of movement. I shall treasure them all for you in Heaven, My Pedro, and when you come to Me (and it will not he so very long) I shall be your Friend, your Companion, your Playmate. We will do all the things you have longed to do-together.'” He left me then, and that ended my first dream.” There was a silence, and then Janet asked breathlessly: “Did you strive, Pedro?”
“I tried to! Sometimes I would forget. I would look out of the window and see the blue sky, hear the shouts of my old schoolfriends as they set off for a long tramp over the hills. Then I grew angry at times, and said something irritable to my patient mother or grieved my father, who was already so grieved for me.”
“When I went to sleep after days like that, the Boy Jesus came to me again. He looked so sad. He just came to stand beside me, saying: ‘Oh Pedro.'”
“How sorry I used to be! When I had told Him, He would sit down on the bed and talk to me, telling me how glad He was when I overcame my faults, how grieved when I gave way. Gradually, I grew stronger in spirit. He did not come every night, but every three or four and always He would talk to me of the treasure He was keeping for me in Heaven.”
“After a while, my parents used to ask me what had made me so patient, or cheerful, or brave. Then I would smile and turn the conversation, for I could not speak of the visits of the Divine Boy, and I would not grieve them by letting them know my days were numbered.”
“Five years went by in that way. By then I was seventeen, very tall and wasted and pale. At last they saw that my strength was failing. We never spoke about it, but we understood each other.”
“One night, when the Divine Boy came to visit me, He was smiling more brightly than ever. He had a brown robe on His arm, just like His own and He held it up to show me.”
“‘Rise up,’ He said,’ and put this on. We are going on a journey together.'”
“Jesus,” I said, half laughing at the words, “How can I rise up, who have been here for five long years?”
“‘Rise!’ He repeated. He leant over me and lifted me up. Oh, the joy of it. I could scarcely restrain myself from dancing around the room, but He made me stand still while He clothed me in the brown robe and tied the girdle around my waist. To my amazement, I found that I was no taller than He as we moved together across the room. How often I had seen Him go from me towards that door Now I walked with Him. As we went out, I took one look at the bed which had been my prison – and saw my wasted form upon it.”
]]>When we reached the Sphere, our angel released us, and we walked together through a wood. It was very peaceful there and we did not speak, for there was much to ponder over and to see. The revelation of our teacher concerning visions had made me feel humble, for I had indeed, while on earth, thought them to be ‘moving pictures’ of the mind. Not that I had scorned them, for many times I too had been lifted up in joy on vision’s sea, and had floated contentedly out beyond the world’s shore. All the same, I had not understood, and I resolved not to make this mistake again.
As we continued our way, birds flew down to welcome us. Some of them alighted on our shoulders or leaned from drooping boughs to blink at us. They were entirely fearless, allowing us to ruffle their feathers or lift the babies into our arms. Some of them were of the kind we had frequently seen on earth, but others were of the most brilliant hues. There was little pause in the joyous song they sent echoing through the branches, and my own heart lifted in praise to join them.
Butterflies, too, were in great variety. Some of them alighted on our heads, or rested near the path, splashing the brown branches with their flaming wings.
“This is the most delightful place,” Janet murmured at last.
“Is it not the Sphere of Dreams? See,” our angel went on, “we come to the Bower. Tread softly, for she who dwells here is the queen.”
There was little need for the warning, for our steps ceased utterly at the sight that met our eyes. Just off the woodland path was a clearing and here loving hands had trained the leaping foliage into ordered beauty. Down the centre was a broad path, arched overhead and covered with climbing flowers. Some of the blossoms peeped down at us, sending out their haunting incense. On either side were borders, massed high with plants and flowering shrubs. Right at the end of the path, half-hidden in drooping leaves, was the Bower.
After an involuntary pause, the angel led the way. We followed softly, and saw there was a movement in the dark interior and a woman appeared. At the sight of us, she paused, smiling radiantly. She had a look about her which I cannot describe, except to say that her eyes held a kind of startled wonder. She was robed in a flowing gown of leaf-gold, with a veil of the same material on her head. “So you have come,” she said, as though she had been expecting us. for a long irne.
In that fleeting moment I deepened my sight, as I had been taught in the Place of Vision, and then I saw that this woman had been unlettered while she lived on earth. A needlewoman, she had worked hard, while her fingers had grown gnarled and bent. As the years drew on she had dreamed, and her dreams had been all of the Holy Little One – and very dear.
“Will you come within?” she invited. Our angel bowed a grave assent and motioned us to follow.
Slowly, softly, we entered the Bower. It was dark within, so that at first we could see nothing, but gradually our eyes grew accustomed and we saw that the floor was carpeted with moss. The walls were clothed with creepers, starred with tiny white flowers. We saw that our angel was moving and made to follow, and then we almost gasped as he fell upon his knees. His head bent low, his hands were lifted up, set palm to palm, his wings were folded. He was very still.
“Janet,” I whispered urgently, my heart beginning to beat rapidly, “What can it be?”
She reached out and clasped my hand. It was cool and steady. Glancing at her face I saw it was lit by the same expression of startled wonder. She was leaning forward, smiling tenderly at some object against the wall. “Come,” she whispered. And then I saw it was a manger!
Silently, we knelt beside our angel, bowing low. The woman, too, had knelt on the other side. I did not dare to look up. My heart was beating so hard that it seemed to fill the bower with its thudding, but in between I heard little movements
Suddenly, the woman’s tender voice began in a kind of murmurous chant:
“And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should he delivered, and she brought forth her just born son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn…”
Her voice trailed away, for all at once the bower was filled with baby angels. They came dancing in, carrying flowers and chanting, “Glory to God in the Highest!”
They did not cease their song until they were gathered around the manger. Then, in the breathless pause, a tiny hand touched mine. I looked up to meet the wide gaze of the Babe.
How my heart leapt within me! The woman lifted Him tenderly, holding Him to her heart. The light that streamed from the little bundle illuminated all the Bower and I caught a glimpse of Janet’s enraptured face. “Would you like to hold Him?”
One by one the angels crept away as we each knelt to hold the Infant in our arms. In that moment of surging joy, I entered into the spirit of Simon, who cried, ‘Now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace!’ While Janet held the Babe, I heard her quickened breathing and caught the echo of her heart-song. The Bower was very still.
Presently, the woman carried the Babe to the doorway and held Him up to see the garden.
“I tend it always for His delight,” she whispered. ” When the morning dew is on the grass, and in the cool of the evening, I carry Him down the path, and every now and then we stop to admire a particular blossom. It seems even more beautiful after His touch.”
“What do you do between the morning and the evening?” Janet asked, holding her finger to be clasped in a dimpled fist.
“Then the shepherds come,” she answered, “the wise men and, the kings; Oh, not really,” she hastened to add. “Just those who love Him come to kneel beside the manger. On earth, the shepherds and the wise men were part of my dreams. I also longed to behold the Holy Babe, just once, when I came to Heaven, but I never dreamed of this.”
Tenderly, she carried the Babe within, and laid Him in the manger. Once more we knelt (for our angel was still there, motionless against the vine-clothed wall). As we bent over Him, our faces were lit by His radiance.
Later, as we walked on through the wood, Janet turned to our angel.
“You said once, that no-one stands still in Heaven’s realm. How long does she stay in the Bower, then, and is she not sad at the thought that one day she must leave it?”
“Child,” said our dear teacher, tenderly, “Every moment she remains in worship of the Holy Babe, she grows in wisdom, and one day the Spirit within will lead her on. The little Babe will beckon, and she will follow until she too reaches the Heights in the fulness of time, even as you will.”
]]>“Now we are going on a long journey,” said our angel-guide. He put an arm around each of us, holding us to his sides and began to soar upward above the garden. By the way he held us we realised we were to travel on ‘angel’s power,’ and Janet asked: “Are we to travel again in the Higher Void?” Yes. Are you pleased? Oh, so pleased The vast grandeur of the spheres was enough to please anyone,” I commented. “Which one is it to be?”
“If I told you its true name, you would hear nothing, for it is too high for you. However, men call it the Sphere of Dreams.”
“How intriguing!” Janet cried. “Do tell us about it.”
We had been cleaving upward so rapidly that we had long ago left the paved walks and gardens behind us. The Higher Void began to enfold us in its first twilight. I sighed with content.
“All men have dreams,” our teacher began. “Some of them are mere whims of the surface mind, but others spring from the hidden depths of the secret heart as pure water gushes out of the soil. It is these dreams, these cherished visions which are fulfilled in the Sphere to which we go.”
“Are dreams and visions the same?” I asked.
“In a way they are. As you know, within each soul dwells the Divine Spark, and man constantly seeks to reach it, once he awakes to his great destiny. Sometimes, by stilling his mental faculties for a moment, he comes very near to the adorable Mystery within. Entranced, he seeks to understand it, to clothe it in something he can treasure, something he can visualise in his mind. He may clothe the Mystery in the lovely body of a young child, and in an ecstasy may say, ‘I have seen the Infant Jesus’ His longing desires, you see, have inspired his search within, and when for an instant of time he drew near to the Presence, they clothed the treasure according to his heart’s dream. So you see, the ‘dream’ is the seeking, and the ‘Vision’ is the finding.” “Are visions, then, something unreal? “Janet asked.
“What is reality?” replied our teacher. “Men say ‘This is real; this is unreal,’ but should they not reverse sometimes their verdict? Truly the vision is real, in that the life within the form is the Divinity within. The form may change, as the desire of man’s heart changes, but the Life remains.”
“Suppose a mother proposes to take her child on a visit. She wants her host to see the boy at his best. Carefully, she selects some clothes and begins to put them on him, first one suit and then another, pausing to observe the effect. Now when she clothes him in her final choice, she does not say ‘He is my son. It was not my son in those other clothes, but an illusion.’ Of course she knows her child, however he is clothed. Thus it is with visions which spring from the depths of a devout soul. The Life is he same; it is but clothed in dreams.”
“How lovely that is,” Janet breathed, and I added: “Sometimes we have wondered, when people have had a great devotion to the Holy Childhood, how it could be. It has seemed strange, when long long since, He was grown to Manhood, died, and ascended to the Father.”
“You thought it lacked reality,” our angel said. “How men of earth pride themselves on ‘being practical,’ and knowing what is real and what is unreal As they grow, they learn that He alone is the true Reality.”
During this conversation, we had been speeding forward all the time. The twilight had deepened into night, and the vast splendour lay around us. On every side stars flashed in their velvet setting, some far away, others seeming to be near. Now and then a chariot of angels sped by, bearing some Great One to a height beyond our knowing. Once a planet hung poised within our range of vision, looking like a spinning ball just out of reach, but our angel soon dispelled that idea.
“It is one of the greatest of all,” he explained. “If you had begun to travel toward it when you first left earth, before even you entered the Hall of Reception of Heaven’s realm, you would not have reached it yet.” He smiled at our astonishment.
Presently he told us to look up, and we saw a tiny point of mellow light shining. “That is our destination.”
]]>“Now you are going to have a very interesting experience,” said our angel-guide as we rose steeply above the trees.
“It is all interesting,” Janet answered gratefully. “What a wonderful book we shall write in the Garden of Desire! How the hearts of men will burn within them because of the loving-kindness of the Father.”
“Because of His infinite wisdom, too,” I added.
“Yes, that is what I want you to have engraved on your memory for eternity,” our teacher explained. That is the very fulfilment of man’s hidden wishes on earth and contains all his learning, his joy and his purification in Heaven. That is why men on earth should strive to search their own hearts and to root out all that is not pure.”
“Suppose they do not know? “Janet asked.
“They do know, deep within. We angels often teach them while they sleep, calling to the highest that is in them. Besides, is it not taught them in the Holy Book? ‘I am He which searcheth the reins and hearts; and I will give unto every one of you according to your works.’ If they know that the Lord will presently search their hearts and reward them accordingly, is it not logical that they should search their own hearts, purifying every desire, that the reward also may he pure?”
“Yes, it is,” Janet and I agreed, and I added: “To say that Heaven is fulfilment suggests at first that it is all joy, but, of course, it depends on the secret wishes that have to he fulfilled.”
“The secret thoughts, also,” our teacher agreed.
While we spoke together, we had been travelling swiftly, and now we alighted in a long, grassy avenue whose trees stood like sentinels on either side. The first thing that struck me as we began to walk, was the stately beauty of our surroundings. Between the trees we could see broad walks, edged with low shrubs, and a fountain sending up its sparkling spray. There were deep stone walls, too, with here and there tall figures revealing the beauty of the perfect human form. Beside the avenue, a lake rippled and there were several swans gliding placidly. This was the most formal of any of the places we had visited. There was even a building within view, very like a house of earth.
As we continued our way, we saw a number of people. They were young and had a lithe grace much in keeping with their surroundings. Some were standing thoughtfully beside one or other of the stone figures. Others were strolling along the paths, or sitting in conversation on the low walls. Children were running about, playing games or picking flowers. Some were splashing one another in the lake. They were all of great beauty – more lovely than any children we had yet seen, except for the baby angels. Some of the little ones were posing for a group of people who regarded them with the earnest abstraction of the artist, while a man sat playing a haunting air on a violin. In reply to my questioning look the angel said, “This is the place of artists.”
“Painters?” Janet queried. All kinds of artists – those who are musical and those who Dance.”
“Dance!” I cried in surprise.
“Why not?” said our teacher, and then, receiving our thought, “Oh, I see that you think dancing has no permanence? Well, it has, here. See those stone figures? When the lesson is learned, they will return to their dust. Yet, all the while they are needed, they are as permanent as pictures, are they not?
“Yes,” Janet said doubtfully, “but what have they to do with dancing?”
“They are the crystallised thoughts of dancers. True dancing is an expression of some lovely thought-picture or inspiration. The dancer on earth is handicapped by not being able to see himself while he expresses his thought. True, he has mirrors, but these give only flat, fleeting glimpses. Here, at any moment he chooses, he may, by an effort of will, crystallise his thought. When his dance is ended, he has the figure of himself in action for the purpose of study.”
“What a wonderful provision,” I exclaimed. “Truly, the vast resource of Heaven seems to be without end.”
“Do they not spring from the Infinite? Musicians, too, are able to crystallise their lovely mind-pictures.”
“Where are they?” Janet asked. The angel smiled.
“Before your eyes! See the avenue of trees, the fountain, the house yonder? All are expressions of the musician’s thoughts-and the painter’s.”
“Do you mean they created them?” I asked, remembering our lessons in the Garden of Desire. “Then this must he a very high plane?”
“It is not the exalted nature of the plane which inspires creation. This is one of the lower planes. No, it is the creative force within the mind of all artists. This comes into its own, here, so that the beauty of the thought can be seen and studied.”
“Do these surroundings also return to their dust? Yes.”
“Then what is left?”
“The next mind-pictures” our teacher smiled. We must have been looking puzzled, for he suddenly said: “Let us talk to one of the people here. Who shall it be-a painter, dancer, musician-”
A dancer,” I put in quickly. ” That is, of course, if Janet approves.”
“I should like that, too,” she agreed.
We walked on through the beautiful avenue, and presently came to a paved square where a girl was sitting in rapt contemplation of a statue. It represented a dancer in action, and I saw that the features were the same as her own. She rose at our approach and greeted us with a smile. “My name is Bernice.”
“This is Bernard and Janet,” our angel said. She turned to us, and then to him, and it was with joy that I realised he was visible here.
“May I introduce my angel? ” she asked surprisingly.
“We shall be honoured,” I answered.
She turned towards the trees and we saw an angel rise and come toward us. He was tall, graceful, and very fair; his flaxen hair bound round the forehead with a blue cord. His flowing robe was white, girded at the waist with blue.
Silently he exchanged a bow with our angel, his eyes gleaming. Then approaching us, he clasped us each on the shoulders, saying:
“Greetings! Have you come for material for your hook?
“How did you know?” Janet asked in astonishment.
“We angels do know” was all he said to that, but his smile was tender.
“We would so much like to know the part this Place of Artists has in the Father’s plan,” I ventured.
“Your teacher has already explained to you about the crystallised thought-picture, I see,” he replied, looking at us searchingly. “As to its part in the Great Plan, it must be understood that all artists with creative ability – those who make pictures, compose or play music, or dance or write – have a big responsibility during their life on earth. They have the power to express, you see, and so it is essential, if they are to give beauty and goodness to the world, that they have pure minds.”
The angel paused and silently invited us to sit down. When we had all found comfortable seats, I asked: “Suppose an artist did not have a pure mind, but painted a beautiful picture? Would not that he giving beauty and goodness to the world?
“No, there is more in it than that ” The angel seemed pleased at my question, as though he had been expecting it, “Every picture has a ‘soul,’ you see. By this, I mean a ‘TWIN,’ more subtle in form and therefore invisible to earth-eyes. However, this subtle form can be perceived by the souls of men and they absorb into themselves something of its nature. Hence, if an artist with an impure mind – by ‘impure’ I mean not wholly good – offers a picture to the world, its ‘soul-twin ‘ has upon it the impression of the ugliness of sin. He offers a beautiful picture for the eyes of men, but an ugly impression for the souls of men. It is these ‘soul-twins’ – whether of artists, musicians, dancers or writers – which are kept in the House of Records.”
“What is that?” asked Janet, looking round for the house we had glimpsed on arrival.
“Oh, not that ” said our new teacher. “It is a place where the record of every soul-picture is kept, but it is only visible at the will of the angels here. Those artists who come from earth must first of all review their records. Then they see the deep impression that their secret thoughts have made, for these have been vitalised by their creative power. That is what I meant by the responsibility of such a gift”
“There were many sad pictures for me to see on arrival,” Bernice said. “In my long life I sometimes forgot the noble quality of my art, and I used it basely.”
“Did von say your long life!” Janet asked. “You are only a girl!”
“I was 90 years old when I passed through death’s door,” she smiled. “Here, according to the loving provision of the lather, we renew our youth. After I had been shown how to help in washing away the ugly pictures, I was very happy.”
“How is it done? ” I asked.
“By learning and practising my art so that I may offer it in the service of my fellows, Later, I shall have the honour of taking part in the lesson-plays which are given in various parts of Heaven’s realm. But not yet.”
“First, I must wait until the ugliness I have left in the world has died quite away.”
“Will that be long? “Janet asked.
“Not long! The years pass swiftly, and soon all those I knew will have followed me through death’s door. I am happy, now. Would you like me to dance for you?”
Before we could reply – for she must have known our answer – she leapt up, taking a position in the centre of the paved square. Instantly a rapt expression crept into her. face She look a deep breath… and then began to move in a rippling, slow motion.
To our delight we could see the soul-picture as she danced, so that we could follow all the beautiful conceptions of her mind. She chose as her subject one of the scenes from a Bible-play which would later be performed for the children. As she danced, some of the little ones left their games, joining in with a graceful simplicity that entranced us.
“Those were little dancers of earth, too,” murmured our angel guide. “These innocent little ones have the freedom of many planes and often visit here to dance with, or pose for, the artists.”
When the dance ended, we thanked Bernice and wished her goodbye. The last we saw of her was her still figure poised before the statue in exact imitation of its pose.
“It is thus I will end my dance before the crib,” she said happily. “Yes, I am chosen to take a small part in the greatest play of all!”
]]>Presently we said goodbye to Margaret and began to walk slowly on, our angel between us. We soon left the Pastimes behind us and came upon a park. Here and there, were arbours where people were talking together.
It reminded me of the Place of Vision except for the absence of perambulators. Most of the people were robed in loose-fitting garments, the men looking somewhat Eastern in their flowing skirts. “Where are we now?” Janet asked.
“It is but a continuation of that which we have left – and of a place you have visited before.”
“Have we really been here?” I questioned, looking around in surprise. “We have travelled so much since we came to Heaven’s realm that we may have forgotten this.”
“No, it is just that you have not seen this particular park. It is part of the Hall of Friends.”
Janet and I cried out in delight, at this. It was very pleasant to come upon a familiar place. However, we were puzzled. Janet glanced at me questioningly. “I thought that Hall was on a higher plane,” she said at last.
“So it is – the part you saw last time. But remember what I said about the ‘babes’ mingling with all the others,” said the angel. “Here too, each one sees, learns and enjoys what he is ready to understand. Besides, the ‘older’ ones help the ‘babies.’ It is touching sometimes, to see with what respect some of the newcomers regard their ‘elders.’ Again, some who are more advanced can see us. Some of them even see the King when He visits the people here.”
“Has He been here recently?” Janet whispered. The angel’s voice dropped to a tender note of love. “He comes, even now. See, the very blossoms bow their heads.”
We followed his glance. Sure enough, the borders were all filled with drooping flowers. It reminded me of a corn-field of earth, when a strong wind blows over it. The young trees, too, bent their slender trunks. There was a hushed air of expectancy.
At the angel’s words, we had stopped walking, and now he drew us into the shadow of an arbour nearby.
Some of the people were still talking, walking about or playing games on the grass. Others seemed to sense the Master’s coming, for they drew near to a grove of drooping trees whose branches interlaced to form a great shadowed roof.
Then we saw Him He came quietly into the grove, walking among His little ones, smiling and lifting His hand in blessing on them all.
It seemed strange that some were unaware. I had an impulse to go out and stop their play, but the angel’s hand restrained me.
“He understands. Was He not equally patient with you, when you also failed to kneel at his approach?”
“When was that?” I asked in surprise.
“When He came to visit His little ones of earth. Do you not know that He visits the streets and gardens and houses, walking unseen in His lower kingdom!”
Nearer He came, our beloved King. He was robed in white and seemed much as I had imagined Him, when He called together His fishermen friends on earth.
One by one, the ‘awakening’ men and women came to kneel at His feet. One of them paused before Him, with clasped hands, gazing up with rapture to meet His tender glance.
“He has been here so often,” murmured our angel, “but she thinks it is the first time. Her eyes have opened since His last visit, you see.”
“May we go to Him?” I whispered.
“Not yet,” said our teacher, again restraining us with his hand. “Presently when He has blessed the little ones. But you may follow Him. Come!”
As our King reached the end of the grove we started at a little distance behind. How tall, how majestic He was, and how radiant the faces uplifted to His.
Soon, He turned into a large building, and when we too entered, we were surprised to find that it was a kitchen, where all kinds of foods were being prepared. There were long rolls, newly baked, which reminded me instantly of the bread-stems in the Plane Between. There were fruity cakes giving out their fragrant steam, bowls of soup and great piles of fruit. Here and there upon the long table were tall jugs of fruit juice. The workers were obviously happy as they moved silently about.
“What a joy this kitchen is to some of the newcomers!” our teacher exclaimed. ” They feel timid, perhaps, or strange, or lonely. When we bring them in here, the familiar scene dispels all their fears.”
“What is the Master doing,” as we watched Him lift His hands.
“He is blessing the food. That is one of the purposes of His visits. The little ones, eating of this prayer-charged food, grow almost unconsciously. Their eyes open too, so that first they can see us, and then they can see their King.”
Again, some of the people, continued their talk for they could not see the figure in their midst. Some, however, knelt, or sat in reverent silence. When the prayer ended, He turned to leave the building after a last look around Him. We followed closely. Swiftly, He led us once more into the park, and walking among the trees, brought us to the seclusion of a shadowed arbour.
Oh, the bliss of that moment! For as we entered, we saw His raiment glowing in rainbow hues, and blazing light surrounded His head. Once more we heard the beloved voice of our King. “Janet… Bernard….” Our angel prostrated himself beside us…
]]>Presently we alighted and began to walk across a field. A cool breeze wafted its way towards us and Janet breathed deeply.
“How delicious!” she cried. “Sample it, Bernard, and tell me what that fragrance is.”
I did so. The perfume was exquisite. After several seconds of delight I said I thought it was the scent of the rose. “That large deep red rose, Janet!”
“I believe it is. What do you think, Angel?”
“I do not think – I know,” he said, smiling, “for this is the garden of roses.”
“What lovely places you bring us to,” Janet said gratefully. “Everyone does not think so. Look!”
We followed his glance and beheld a young woman standing uncertainly on the fringe of a garden. The scenery was sufficiently beautiful to entrance anyone, for there were broad paths edged with shrubs, and in the borders a mass of roses of every hue. The visitor, however, did not seem to notice all this. She kept looking about her with quick timid glances.
“She looks lonely and nervous,” Janet said. “May we speak to her, dear angel?” Before he could reply, a woman came into view, walking with graceful step up the broad, garden path. She went straight toward the timid one, holding out her hands hospitably.
“Draw near,” said our angel, “quickly, and she will include you in her greeting.” As we approached, the two were standing together.
“You are very welcome, child,” said the deep voice of the older woman. “What is your name?”
“Constance,” said the visitor. “Oh, I am so glad to see you walking about. People don’t just keep still and do nothing, do they? How do you pass the time?”
“Child,” said the woman, whose name I saw was Margaret, of what are you afraid?”
“Of – of eternity,” Constance stammered. “Of having time without end and nothing to do.”
“It does sound rather grim.” Margaret smiled, “Well foolish one I daresay we can find you something to do.” She linked her arm in her companion’s and turned to us. “Well, here are more visitors. Welcome, Janet and Bernard!” I saw at once that she had reached out in thought for our names.
She saw our angel too, for she gave a little bow, though she said nothing. The angel returned the bow, murmuring to us:
“The guides on these lower planes are far advanced, but out of their great love for mankind they give their services here for a lime.”
“Let us all go along together,” Margaret suggested.
We set off along the path. Constance keeping close to her new friend, our angel, as usual, bringing up the rear. The garden was very lovely. Janet and I would have liked to have lingered, but as Margaret and Constance went on, we followed.
All around us, people were working in the garden, bending absorbedly over the rich soil. They have something to do, you see,” Margaret pointed out, “Yes, but I do not care for gardening,” Constance whispered.
“What do you like to do?”
“I used to play my violin for hours. Oh, how the time flew!” Her face lost its timid look as she spoke, then shadowed. “But here – oh, what shall I do here?”
“Play the violin, I suppose,” Margaret said with a smile.
“Can I-is it-oh, surely it cannot be!”
“Why not? But let me show you around.” Constance was looking delighted now. At last she had eyes for the beauty around her, “What are those buildings?” she asked.
I followed the direction of her glance, and saw that the garden widened into a great avenue. On either side were huge buildings with shallow steps approaching tall, massive doors. The curious thing about these buildings was that they had no roofs.
“Those are the Pastimes,” Margaret explained. “See, there are people going in one of the doors. Shall we look within?”
We went quickly toward the steps and soon found ourselves just outside the door. I think I had been visualising a kind of ‘Funfair’ of earth – rows of tables with aisles at intervals, or something like that. Certainly I had a surprise.
There was a vast green, open to the sky, stretching far away into the distance. Here and there men and women were tramping along, or standing in thoughtful attitudes. All at once, the truth flashed upon me. They were playing golf! “How very extraordinary,” Janet said, coming to a realisation at the same time.
“There are many others,” Margaret said. “Come and inspect some more.”
We began a tour of the avenue, then, passing by some of the buildings or pausing at the doors of others. In one of these people were standing at benches, working away with great concentration. Others were using various kinds of machines. “Those are the handicraft workers,” Margaret explained.
In another building, people were sitting at desks, poring with obvious enjoyment over their books. Occasionally the turning of a page disturbed the silence, or someone would rise and go across to the great bookcases for another volume. “Those are the students.”
Again, Margaret led us to a building where a number of games were being played. One section was reserved for tennis, another for cricket, and so on. In one corner a group of people were ‘lost to the world ‘ in a game of cards. At these, for some reason I could not fathom, I stared in great wonder. “Cards in Heaven!” I gasped. You will see the wisdom of it presently,” the angel promised.
At last we came to a building which proclaimed itself; for an orchestra was sending forth its music through the opened door. At once Constance gripped Margaret’s arm pleadingly. “Oh, may I go inside? Please!” “Of course, child.”
Like a flash, Constance was up the steps and within the great door. Margaret and the angel turned to each other, then, and renewed their greeting.
“You are doing a great work in helping these little ones to lose their fear of time,” said our teacher.
“How do you achieve that?” Janet asked. “And why are people afraid of time?” Margaret led us to a seat before replying. When we were all settled she said:
“People on earth are intended to use games and hobbies as a relaxation. Most of them do. Some, however, come to live for their games, to ‘come alive’ as it were, only in the pursuit of them. These people are afraid of time. Perhaps they had great ambitions and they failed. Perhaps they had great sorrows, and desired to blot out the memory of them. Or perhaps, through physical handicaps they were prevented from living a more varied life. Whatever is the cause, these people feared time. They were perpetually trying to ‘pass’ it, to hurry over the hours, yet inexorably another day would dawn. Then there is the opposite type who tries to ‘save’ time. He constantly rushes here and there, striving to do everything a little faster than his neighbours, trying to ‘save time,’ and then, with the leisure won, to concentrate some more energy into ‘saving’ that. These types are alike in that they are afraid of being still, of being alone, of thinking, of realising that there is eternity. That vast, endless quality terrifies them, so they use up every moment.”
“Of course, when they get here, we have to teach them to relax, to show them that eternity is not a fearful, but a wondrous thing.”
“How do you do it?” I asked.
“Well,” she smiled, ” You may think it is a little hard on them, perhaps, but it is most effective! These Pastimes are enclosed so that the doors can be shut at regular intervals (not all at the same time). We announce that the building is to be evacuated and closed. Some of the people think this is a splendid idea, at first. It saves them from monotony and boredom! Then, as they become absorbed in their play, they object to breaking it off at the leader’s command.”
“Something like sending a child off to bed before he has finished reading the chapter in his book!” I chuckled.
“Yes, it is exactly the same,” Margaret said.
“How do the people react to it?” Janet asked.
“At first, they obey willingly. Later, unwillingly. Then, one by one they come to the leaders. ‘Cannot I have a little more time to finish my work?’ they plead. Of course, we answer, ‘Why, you have all eternity!’ Then gradually truth dawns, and they smile!”
“From that moment we teach them to value eternity, how to see it as a precious gift of the Father’s Love. Very soon, they are asking how they can serve their fellow-men, or enquiring if there are places besides the one they know.”
“They do not abandon their games altogether, do they?” Janet asked.
“No, for a long time they return here whenever they will, as a relaxation from learning in other planes. But they are perfectly at peace, for they have come to value eternity.” Our angel intervened then, to say:
“See the wise provision of Heaven! They have their fulfilment right from the very beginning, yet every moment is a time of learning. Behold the Father’s Love!”
]]>When the angel finished speaking, Janet and I seemed to see life with new eyes. “It does seem easy, after all,” I commented.
“Yes, but man will not find it so. The habits of years have to be overcome, the mind must be trained to dwell in charity. Then there are the other two aspects to be considered.”
“Tell us of these two,” Janet asked, leaning back against our teacher’s arm and gazing over the distant mountain peaks. “Is it not difficult to be free from care on earth?” Difficult, but not impossible.” “The Master said, ‘Be not anxious,'” I ventured.
“Yes, man has the teaching there as well as here. It needs practice, though, to live without anxiety. Men think they must do everything, that they must win from life the benefits they desire. Of course, effort is necessary. Man must use the talents, but their motive for using them is usually at fault. They want a larger house, perhaps, or the facility for travel. They want richer food or clothes, they want to have more than their neighbours. Therefore they build their strivings on a wrong foundation. God does not bless their efforts and they are burdened with care. “‘How can I be less anxious,’ they mourn, ‘if all my anxious striving fails to bring me my heart’s desire?’ If they would but turn to the Word, they would find the answer. ‘Delight in the Lord and He will give thee thy heart’s desire.’ But suppose He doesn’t?’ they would plead. ‘What shall I do then to get my heart’s desire?’ “You see, they want their own way, and not God’s way. They have ignored the real desire of their inmost heart (which is always the same – to find rest and joy in God) and they spend their lives in agonised striving for some less worthy motive. Of course, they are burdened with care!”
“Heaven on earth comes when a man yields his heart to the Father, desiring to live His way, wanting what He wills. Then things begin to move in a wonderful way! Not at first-there is a time to test himself first, but the reward follows quickly on the heels of it. If he continues to strive with a good motive – that of loving and serving his fellow-men – his life will lose its burden of earthly care. There will be trials, still, or he could not grow, but his burden of care will be rolled away. Do you remember what the Apostle said about that?”
“Yes, for it was my favourite text on earth!” I cried. Janet smiled at me, remembering how many times I had quoted it. “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them that are called according to His purpose.”
“Any more?” our angel asked, smiling at Janet. “You next!”
“‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord and He shall sustain thee.'”
“Good. And another?”
“‘Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you?'” Janet quoted.
“‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee,'” I added.
Now that brings us to the third aspect,” said our angel-teacher, “for the mind cannot be stayed on God unless His Presence is felt in the soul.” He rose up, then, and spread his wings. At the same time he clasped our hands. “Let us continue our journey and we will talk as we go.”
In a moment we were winging our way over the mountains, skimming the snow-covered one and wheeling high above the valley.
“Just as life must be recognised as one continuous whole, so must the Spirit of God,” he continued. “God’s Life-Spirit is in all that lives and it is never cut off or withdrawn. How could it be? Without Him the universe would fall into fragments and live no more. Therefore, a spark of that great Spirit is hidden in the soul of us all. Men have to live on earth, their inner spark hidden by the veils of earth-sense, and strive toward knowing until they reach the consciousness of which the King of Love spoke.”
“What did He say?” Janet whispered.
“‘That they all may be one, as Thou, Father art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also may be one in Us.'”
“It is a stupendous thought,” I said.
“It leads to a consciousness of His bliss while still on earth. Think also of the words, ‘Know ye not that your members are the temple of the Holy Ghost, who is in you, whom ye have from God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a great price. Glorify and bear God in your body.'”
“How can man on earth achieve this consciousness?” I asked.
“Only by thinking of it,” our teacher said firmly. “If he reads or meditates and seeks within himself, he will all at once come to a glimpse of it. Within him is a narrow path with many turnings. If he continues faithfully, he will at last turn the corner and find the truth revealed. But he must persevere If he pauses, and gives up the search, how can he be sure that the very next corner is not the last?”
“Suppose he is a busy man,” suggested Janet, “and has little time for meditation. What then?”
“He can read one simple text and carry it in his heart. Who has not a moment to turn the treasure over in his mind from time to time? Yes, he must persevere, and if he does, the consciousness will come to him as though the music of Heaven were sounding in his heart.”
]]>Our angel smiled at us. “Is it not good to see the eternal patience of Heaven’s realm?”
“Oh, it is,” Janet said fervently. “Each one is so happy, yet learning all the time.”
“And not hurried in any way,” I commented.
“It is just one vast scale of growing,” the angel agreed. “Always remember the continuity of life. People on earth so often think of life where they are and life where they will be, beyond death’s door, as entirely separate – as though it were composed of two rooms, like Frank’s shack. Actually it is one, and continuous. When people begin to awake in the spirit they sometimes start to yearn and sigh for Heaven. Foolish ones…”
“Are they?” I asked doubtfully, for I too had ‘yearned and sighed’ on earth.
“Of course Heaven is not a blissful place in the next room. It can begin (and does begin) with the first moment of conscious earth-life.”
Do tell us more fully “Janet cried eagerly. “It will comfort so many people to think that their loved ones on earth can not only find fulfilment here.”
“Well, fulfilment is only possible here,” our teacher admitted, “but some of the great happiness of Heaven is available to all who will seek for it there. It is necessary, first of all, clearly to see all life as one. One continuous living, whether on earth or beyond death’s door. Once this is realised, a man begins to see that he has not to wail for Heaven, but he can start living the Heaven-life right away.” I was listening intently, watching our angel’s face as it glowed in the light of the setting sun. We were sitting high up on the mountain-top and the vast stretches of country laid out at our feet seemed to illustrate the angel’s words. Janet had moved close, holding a fold of the angel’s robe and looking up.
“What must he do?” she whispered.
“Well now, the bliss of Heaven is particularly experienced in three ways. The first, a consciousness of universal charity among men. The second, a freedom from care. The third, the abiding Presence of the Father’s Love.”
“He cannot find all that on earth surely?” I asked urgently.
“No, but he can make what he does not find.”
“Oh!” Janet and I exclaimed together.
“Let us consider them one by one.” Our angel was leaning forward with an absorbed expression, evidently enjoying the subject as much as we were. “It is certainly not true on earth that there is universal charity. However, a man may live in universal charity in his heart, and thus enter into a consciousness of Heaven’s joy. It will come to him immediately if he straightway resolves to be charitable in his thoughts. How simple, familiar, almost stale that sounds! Those on earth have heard it a thousand times. Let us, however, visualise it in action. Suppose a man awakes one morning with the thought; ‘I want to start living my Heaven life now, so I will be charitable in all my thoughts from now on.’ (He has probably been taught in the Plane Between during sleep).”
“He rises and begins to dress, and soon impatient thoughts begin to enter his mind against another man. Immediately, he enters into his mental conception of heaven as though he met this man on the broad field of Heaven’s realm. He remembers that the first joy of Heaven is universal charity. At once, all the stupid resentments melt away. ‘Why,’ he thinks, ‘if his ways annoy me, my ways must annoy him!’ That is the first step, for he begins to see himself with another’s eyes. ‘Suppose he wanted to speak against me,’ he continues, ‘how many things he could say! Probably I should find some of them quite new – maybe unconscious habits of mine that he dislikes, or some way in which I have unknowingly misjudged him,’ Musing, he begins to enter more deeply into his Heaven-consciousness.”
“‘When I reach Heaven, all that will have to go,’ he thinks at last. ‘After all, there we shall all be just God’s children. There, all our sins will be forgiven us, only to the extent that we have forgiven others,’ Unconsciously, he draws again on the wisdom that came to him in sleep. ‘What about my own sins, faults and failings? Most of them have not been deliberate just sudden little temptations and falls. I have meant well. Perhaps he has meant well, to o- and yet I would hold it against him as though he set out deliberately to harm me7”
“As he begins to prepare his morning meal, he thinks wonderingly of the absurdity of his former way of life. He sees that, while desiring to be in Heaven he has made no effort to bring the universal charity of it to earth. ‘If I cannot enjoy it here, how can I hope to enjoy to there?’ he asks himself in a flash of insight. ‘All this thought of wanting Heaven has been nonsense! I just wanted to get my own way, to have eternal bliss – and to go on looking down on my fellow men! They did not deserve it – I did!’ Suddenly, he laughs at himself – a good sign!”
“‘From now on I will live a Heaven-on-earth,’ he resolves. ‘I will think with kindliness and sympathy of others, knowing that I have just as many faults as they. When their ways annoy me I will remember that very few people deliberately sin. Mostly it is just like it is with me – I have sudden falls and so do they. Yes, I will make as ready an excuse for them as I make for myself. In the majority of cases I shall have reached the real truth of the matter.’ ”
“By this time, the man has finished his meal and set forth on his earth-journey for the day. Carrying his Heaven-consciousness with him; he is happy and at peace. No wonder – for to him it is Heaven on earth.”
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