What is the transition from life to death?

In his preface to Life in the World Unseen, amanuensis Anthony Borgia writes that knowledge is the best antidote for fear, especially if that fear should be of the possible—or probable state of existence after you have made the change from this life to the next—

Passing to Spirit Life

The actual process of dissolution is not necessarily a painful one.

I had during my earth life witnessed many souls passing over the border into spirit.

I had had the chance of observing with the physical eyes the struggles that take place as the spirit life seeks to free itself forever from the flesh.

With my psychic vision, I had also seen the spirit life leave, but nowhere was I able to find out what exactly took place at the moment of separation—nor was I able to gather any information upon the sensations experienced by the passing soul.

The writers of religious textbooks tell us nothing of such things, for one very simple reason—

They do not know.

The physical body many times appeared to be suffering acutely, either from actual pain—or through laboured—or restricted breathing.

To this extent such passing had all the appearance of being extremely painful.

Was this really so? was a question I had often asked myself.

Whatever was the true answer, I could never really believe that the actual physical process of ‘dying’ was a painful one, notwithstanding that it appeared so.

The answer to my question I knew I would have one day, and I always hoped that at least my passing would not be violent—whatever else it might be.

My hopes were fulfilled.

My end was not violent, but it was laboured, as were so many that I had witnessed.

I had a presentiment that my days on earth were drawing to a close only a short while before my passing.

There was a heaviness of the mind—something akin to drowsiness, as I lay in my bed.

Many times, I had a feeling of floating away and gently returning.

Doubtless, during such periods, those who were concerned with my physical welfare were under the impression that if I had not actually passed, I was sinking rapidly.

During such lucid intervals that I had I endured no feelings of physical discomfort.

I could see and hear what was going on around me—

I could ‘sense’ the mental distress that my condition was occasioning.

And yet, I had the sensation of the most extraordinary exhilaration of the mind.

I knew for certain that my time had come to pass on, and I was full of eagerness to be gone.

I had no fear—

No misgivings—

No doubts—

No regrets so far at thus leaving the earth world.

All that I wanted was to be away.

I suddenly felt a great urge to rise up.

I had no physical feeling whatever—very much in the same way that physical feeling is absent during a dream, but I was mentally alert, however much my body seemed to contradict such a condition.

Immediately, I had this distinct prompting to rise, I found that I was actually doing so.

I then discovered that those around my bed did not seem to perceive what I was doing since they made no effort to come to my assistance—nor did they try in any way to hinder me.

Turning, I then beheld what had taken place.

I saw my physical body lying lifeless upon its bed, but here was I—the real I—alive and well.

For a minute or two, I remained gazing, and the thought of what to do next entered my head, but help was close at hand.

I could still see the room quite clearly around me, but there was a certain mistiness about it, as though it were filled with smoke very evenly distributed.

I looked down at myself, wondering what I was wearing in the way of clothes, for I had obviously risen from a bed of sickness, and was, therefore, in no condition to move very far from my surroundings.

I was extremely surprised to find that I had on my usual attire, such as I wore when moving freely and in good health about my own house.

My surprise was only momentary, since, I thought to myself, what other clothes should I expect to be wearing?

Surely not some sort of diaphanous robe.

Such costume is usually associated with the conventional idea of an angel, and I had no need to assure myself that I was not that!

Such knowledge of the spirit world, as I had been able to glean from my own experiences, instantly came to my aid.

I knew at once of the alteration that had taken place in my condition—I knew, in other words, that I had ‘died.’

I knew, too, that I was alive—

I had shaken off my last illness sufficiently to be able to stand upright and look about me.

At no time was I in any mental distress, but I was full of wonder at what was to happen next, for here I was in full possession of all my faculties, feeling ‘physically,’ as I had never felt before.

Although this has taken some time in the telling that I might give you as much detail as possible, the whole process must have taken but a few minutes of earth time.

As soon as I had had this brief space in which to look about me and to appreciate my new estate, I found myself joined by a former colleague—a priest—who had passed to this life some years before.

We greeted each other warmly and I noticed that he was attired like myself.

Again, this in no way seemed strange to me because had he been dressed in any other way, I should have felt that something was wrong somewhere, as I had only known him in clerical attire.

He expressed his great pleasure at seeing me again, and for my part I foresaw the gathering up of the many threads that had been broken by his ‘death.’

For the first moment—or so, I allowed him to do all the talking—I had yet to accustom myself to the newness of things.

For you must remember that I had just relinquished a bed of final sickness—

In casting off the physical body, I had also cast off the sickness with it, and the new sensation of comfort and freedom from bodily ills was one so glorious that its realisation took a little while to comprehend fully.

And here let me say that all idea of a ‘judgment seat’—or a ‘day of judgment’ was entirely swept from my mind in the actual procedure of transition.

The very conception of ‘judgment’ and 'hell’ and ‘heaven’ seemed utterly impossible.

Indeed, they were wholly fantastic now that I found myself alive and well ‘clothed in my right mind,’ and in my own familiar habiliments, standing in the presence of an old friend who was shaking me cordially by the hand and giving me greeting and good wishes and showing all the outward genuine manifestations of being pleased to see me, as I was pleased to see him.

He himself was in the best of spirits, as he stood there giving me such a welcome—

That in itself was sufficient to show that all thoughts of being marched off to my judgment were entirely preposterous.

We both were too jolly—too happy— too carefree—too natural—

I myself was waiting with excitement for all manner of pleasant revelations of this new world—

I knew that there could be none better than my old friend to give them to me.

He told me to prepare myself for an immeasurable number of the pleasantest of surprises, and that he had been sent to meet me on my arrival.

As he already knew the limits of my knowledge, so his task was that much the easier.

As soon as I managed to find my tongue after our first breaking the silence, I noticed that we spoke just as we had always done upon the earth, that is, we simply used our vocal cords and spoke quite as a matter of course.

It required no thinking about and I did not think about it.

I merely noted that it was so.

My friend then proposed that as we had no further need—or call to stay in the surroundings of my passing, we might move away, and that he would take me to a very nice ‘place’ that had been made ready for me.

He made this reference to a ‘place,’ but he hastened to explain that in reality I was going to my own house where I should find myself immediately ‘at home.’

Not knowing how I was to get there, I placed myself entirely in his hands, and that he told me was precisely what he was there for!

I could not resist the impulse to turn and take a last look at the room of my transition.

It still presented its misty appearance.

Those who were formerly standing round the bed had now withdrawn, and I was able to approach the bed and gaze at ‘myself.’

I was not the least impressed by what I saw, but the last remnant of my physical self seemed to be placid enough.

As we departed, the room gradually became more misty until it faded farther from my vision, and finally disappeared.

He then told me to take hold of his arm firmly, and to have no fear, whatever.

I could if I wished close my eyes.

It would perhaps be better if I did so.

I took his arm and left the rest to him, as he told me to do.

I at once experienced a sensation of floating such as one has in physical dreams, though this was very real and quite unattended by any doubts of personal security.

The motion seemed to become more rapid as time went on—

I still kept my eyes firmly closed.

It is strange with what determination one can do such things here.

Here there was no shadow of doubt that all was well—

There was nothing to fear—

Nothing untoward could possibly take place—

My friend had complete control of the situation.

After a short while our progress seemed to slacken somewhat—

I could feel that there was something very solid under my feet.

I was told to open my eyes—I did so.

What I saw was my old home I had lived in on the earth plane—my old home, but with a difference.

It was improved in a way that I had not been able to do to its earthly counterpart.

The house itself was rejuvenated, rather than restored, but it was the gardens round it that attracted my attention more fully.

They appeared to be quite extensive, and they were in a state of the most perfect order and arrangement.

By this, I do not mean the regular orderliness that one is accustomed to see in public gardens on the earth plane, but that they were beautifully kept and tended.

There were no wild growths—or masses of tangled foliage and weeds, but the most glorious profusion of beautiful flowers so arranged as to show themselves to absolute perfection.

Of the flowers themselves, when I was able to examine them more closely, I must say that I never saw either their like—or counterpart upon the earth of many that were there in full bloom.

Numbers were to be found, of course, of the old familiar blossoms, but the greater number seemed to be something entirely new to my rather small knowledge of flowers.

It was not merely the flowers themselves and their unbelievable range of superb colourings that caught my attention, but the vital atmosphere of eternal life that they threw out in every direction.

And as one approached any particular group of flowers—or even a single bloom, there seemed to pour out great streams of energising power, which uplifted the soul spiritually and gave it strength, while the heavenly perfumes they exhaled were such as no soul clothed in its mantle of flesh has ever experienced.

All these flowers were living and breathing, and they were incorruptible.

There was another astonishing feature I noticed when I drew near to them—the sound of music that enveloped them, making such soft harmonies, as corresponded exactly and perfectly with the gorgeous colours of the flowers themselves.

These musical sounds were in precise consonance with all that I had so far seen, and everywhere, there was perfect harmony.

Already I was conscious of the revitalising effect of this heavenly garden to such an extent that I was anxious to see more of it.

And so, in company with my old friend upon whom I was here relying for information and guidance, I walked the garden paths, trod upon the exquisite grass whose resilience and softness were almost comparable to ‘walking on air;’ and tried to make myself realise that all this superlative beauty was part of my own home.

There were many splendid trees to be seen—none of which was malformed—yet there was no suggestion of strict uniformity of pattern.

It was simply that each tree was growing under perfect conditions—free from the storms of wind that bend and twist the young branches—free from the inroads of insect life and many other causes of the misshapenness of earthly trees.

As with the flowers, so with the trees.

They live forever incorruptible, clothed always in their full array of leaves of every shade of green, and forever pouring out life to all those who approach near them.

I had observed that there did not appear to be shade beneath the trees, and yet there did not appear to be any glaring sun.

It seemed to be that there was a radiance of light that penetrated into every corner, and yet there was no hint of flatness.

My friend told me that all light proceeded directly from the Giver of All Light, and that this light was divine life itself, and that it bathed and illumined the whole of the spirit world where lived those who had eyes spiritually to see.

I noticed, too, that a comfortable warmth pervaded every inch of space—a warmth perfectly even and as perfectly sustained.

The air had a stillness, yet there were gentle perfume-laden breezes—the truest zephyrs—that in no way altered the delightful balminess of the temperature.

I was struck by the fact that there were no signs of walls—or hedges—or fences—nothing to mark off where my garden began—or ended.

I was told that such things as boundaries were not needed because each person knew instinctively, but beyond doubt, just where his own garden ended.

There was, therefore, no encroaching upon another’s grounds, although all were open to any who wished to traverse them—or linger within them.

I was wholeheartedly welcome to go wherever I wished without fear of intruding upon another’s privacy.

I was told I should find that that was the rule here—

I would have no different feelings with respect to others walking in my own garden.

I had no notions whatever of ownership personally, although I knew that it was my own ‘to have and to hold.

And that is precisely the attitude of all here—ownership and partnership at one and the same time.

Seeing the beautiful state of preservation and care in which all the garden was kept, I inquired of my friend as to the genius who looked after it so assiduously and with such splendid results.

Before answering my question, he suggested that as I had but so very recently arrived in the spirit land, he considered it advisable that I should rest—or that at least I should not overdo my sightseeing.

Accordingly, we walked along until we found such a ‘pleasant’ place beneath the branches of a magnificent tree, whence we overlooked a great tract of the countryside whose rich verdure undulated before us and stretched far away into the distance.

The whole prospect was bathed in glorious celestial sunshine and I could perceive many houses of varying descriptions picturesquely situated like my own among trees and gardens.

We threw ourselves down upon the soft turf, and I stretched myself out luxuriously, feeling as though I were lying upon a bed of the finest down.

My friend asked me if I was tired.

I had no ordinary sensation of earthly fatigue, but yet I felt somewhat the necessity for a bodily relaxation.

He told me that my last illness was the cause of such a desire, and that if I wished I could pass into a state of complete sleep.

At the moment, however, I did not feel the absolute need for that and I told him that for the present I would much prefer to hear him talk.

And so he began.

Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he reap.

Those few words describe exactly the great eternal process by which all that you see—actually here before you—is brought about.

All the trees—the flowers—the woods—the houses that are also the happy homes of happy people—everything is the visible result of whatsoever a man soweth.

This land wherein you and I are now living is the land of the great harvest—the seeds of which were planted upon the earth plane.

All who live here have won for themselves the precise abode they have passed to by their deeds upon the earth.

The very fact that I was lying there where I was constituted a complete refutation of so much that I taught and upheld during my priestly life upon earth.

I could see volumes of orthodox teachings, creeds and doctrines melting away because they are of no account—because they are not true—because they have no application whatever to the eternal world of spirit and to its great Creator and Upholder.

I could see clearly now what I had seen but hazily before—orthodoxy is man-made, but that the Universe is God-given.

My friend went on to tell me that I should find living within the homes all sorts and conditions of people—people whose religious views when they were on the earth were equally varied.

But one of the great facts of spirit life is that souls are exactly the same the instant after passing into spirit life, as they were the instant before.

Death-bed repentances are of no avail since the majority are but cowardice born of fear of what is about to happen—a fear of the theologically-built eternal hell that is such a useful weapon in the ecclesiastical armoury and one that perhaps has caused more suffering in its time than many other erroneous doctrines.

Creeds, therefore, do not form any part of the world of spirit, but because people take with them all their characteristics into the spirit world, the fervid adherents to any particular religious body will continue to practice their religion in the spirit-world until such time as their minds become spiritually enlightened.

We have here whole communities still exercising their old earthly religion.

The bigotry and prejudices are all there, religiously speaking.

They do no harm, except to themselves, since such matters are confined to themselves.

There is no such thing as making converts here!

The same ceremonies—the same ritual—the same old beliefs—all are being carried on with the same misplaced zeal in churches erected for the purpose.

The members of these communities know that they have passed on, and they think that part of their heavenly reward is to continue with their man-made forms of worship.

So, they will continue until such time as a spiritual awakening takes place.

Pressure is never brought to bear upon these souls—their mental resurrection must come from within themselves.

When it does come, they will taste, for the first time, the real meaning of freedom.

He had so far left unanswered my question as to who was the kindly soul who tended my garden so well, but he read my unspoken thought and reverted to the matter himself.

Both the house and the garden were the harvest I had reaped for myself during my earth life.

Having earned the right to possess them, I had built them with the aid of generous souls who spend their life in the spirit world performing such deeds of kindness and service to others.

Not only was it their work, but it was their pleasure at the same time.

Frequently, this work is undertaken and carried out by those who on earth were expert in such things, and who also had a love for it.

Here they can continue with their occupation under conditions that only the world of spirit can supply.

Such tasks bring their own spiritual rewards, although the thought of reward is never in the minds of those who perform them.

The desire of being of service to others is always uppermost.

The man who had helped to bring this beautiful garden into being was a lover of gardens upon the earth plane, and he was also an expert.

But once the garden was created there was not the incessant toil that is necessary for its upkeep, as with large gardens upon the earth.

Here there is no decay, and all that grows does so under the same conditions as we exist.

I was told that the garden would need practically no attention and that our friend the gardener would still keep it under his care if I so wished it.

Far from merely wishing it, I expressed the hope that he certainly would do so.

I voiced my deep gratitude for his wonderful work—

I hoped that I might be able to meet him and convey to him my sincere appreciation and thanks.

My friend explained that that was quite a simple matter, and that the reason why I had not already met him was the fact of my very recent arrival and that he would not intrude until I had made myself quite at home.

My mind again turned to my occupation while on earth—the conducting of daily service and all the other duties of a minister of the church.

Since such an occupation, as far as I was concerned, was now needless—I was puzzled to know what the immediate future had in store for me.

I was again reminded that there was plenty of time in which to ponder the subject, and my friend suggested that I should rest myself and then accompany him upon some tours of inspection—

There was so much to see and so much that I should find more than astonishing.

There were also numbers of friends who were waiting to meet me again after our long separation.