Experiences in Spirit Life

The testimony below, from the Cincinnati Enquirer, was given through a finely developed medium—

I did not recognise death when it came to me, nor the spirit condition. I awoke from a dream that had been amplified many hundredfold, and it was a foretaste of bliss. With congenial friends I have roamed through forest glens colonnaded by venerable trees, in green pastures irrigated by purling streams, among orchards in ruddy fruitage, beside vast fields heavy with ripened grain and protected by interminable hedgerows, studded with flowers so magnificent as to remind one of the star gems in the firmament of God. We visited the Hebrides and explored Fingal's cave; saw Florence and Venice, Rome and Munich in apparently a few hours, and gazed into the crater of Vesuvius when it was seething in fiery rage. Africa, India, Australia, New Zealand and Alaska were comprehensively explored, and a leap made to Spitzbergen, as readily as one traverses great space in an ordinary dream, without special wonder. Through Russia and Siberia the pace was rapid, for before darkness overtook us we were upon the apex of Cheops, the great pyramid of Egypt. Really, I have no memory of night in this whole excursion, but we saw opera at Berlin, comedy at Paris, tragedy in Austria's capital, and much miscellaneous deviltry at Lisbon and Madrid, and most of these were behind the footlights.

Description of all we saw would make a large and interesting book, and I mention these few items merely to demonstrate that the conditions are adapted to the individual mind. I had always felt a great desire to travel and personally inspect localities which were famous in history. Among other notable objects to which memory recurs we visited Pompey's Pillar, the Palace of Memory, Temples of Osiris and Diana, the Alhambra, Escurial and many obelisks. We passed in and out of seraglios without impediment, and explored all the mysteries of life in the harem at our ease. We discovered them to be places where fancy takes precedence of fact and makes truth of little value. Negligence of order and propriety and the ordinary courtesies in polygamous countries is the best argument ever found for the grand institution of monogamy.

Upon the steppes of Asia our band prevented a murder by affrighting the bloody-minded Bedouins about to perpetrate it, and in London they saved a dear little child from destruction by causing a runaway team to swerve from its course, through means inexplicable except to the spirit. And, upon awaking, all these things were mentally reviewed and regarded as a wonderful dream. From the reminiscent standpoint, its duration seemed to have been through many months of industrious exertion and unalloyed pleasure, and it had enlarged the mind, given new wings to fancy and increased the thirst for knowledge. 

After a long time spent in reviewing what I had seen and felt, it occurred to me that the surroundings upon which I then gazed were new and strange; that I was not in my own room; that the bed was not there, but I was reclining upon something so soft as to give back no sense of contact; and that the atmosphere rose and fell in little puffs of gold and purple like the aurora of a clear, frosty morning. Yet there was no sense of either cold or warmth. The consciousness of rest was supreme and delightful, and a delicious languor possessed me in an embrace too ecstatic to relinquish. I had no desire to get up, and curiosity as to this new environment was demolished by the peace and security it realised. So I remained in that position, the subject of the pleasantest sensations, without account of time or thought or care, wondering a little why friends did not come and marvelling at the grateful silence.

Perhaps I slept again, but if so, it was only for a little space, and then the sound of sweet voices came through the curtains of iridescent nebulosity, arousing me to a sense of life and desire for companionship. As if responding to this sentiment, immediately two young men appeared at my couch and kindly saluted me. One asked if I felt completely restored. Not until then did remembrance come that I had been very sick.

Yes, thank the Lord, I was well. Pain was all gone and strength had returned.

But, I asked, where am I?

Come with us and see, they said.

Willingly, after I dress.

You are clothed, was the answer.

Not until then had I noticed their raiment. It consisted of pearl grey robes as soft as ether, and caps of the same material encircled by blue bands, the whole giving a refreshing sense of airiness. I was correspondingly apparelled and did not think of the wherefore, for all feeling of care and wonder was gone.

We sauntered into a path like a grand boulevard, but carpeted with flowers of many hues, which sprang up through beds of moss as soft as silk, and dispensed their fragrance with the lavishness of nature in her best moods. And as we came to a place where thousands of men, women and children were entering a great arbour, flower-bedecked and illuminated by wonderful aureolae, the young men turned and joined the swelling procession, and arm in arm we went in with the multitude. It was a countless host, and overflowing with songs, joyous words and merry laughter. Upon a dais in the centre of the great amphitheatre were formed many groups in little circles, and making one of these I saw in garments white as snow and pure as heavenly love, the harbingers of life eternal, and then for the first time the sublime truth reached my soul that I was in the realms of immortal life.

Those who composed that special group were my father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, uncles, aunts, a dear sister, and one who would have sustained a tender relation to me had she remained longer upon earth, and there were others of various degrees of relationship with them, all smiling upon me and my companions and beckoning our approach. I went to them in haste, and received the welcome which only pure affection can emphasise. Mother said—

You had a long and refreshing sleep.

But not here, I said.

Certainly, here in the Spirit Home, she answered.

But I only came here this morning.

True. Here it is always morning. There is neither yesterday nor tomorrow, never night nor gloom. Yet you slept long, when the interval was counted in a mother's heart.

I traversed the whole world in a dream, and that required time, I said, by way of apology.

It was no dream, but the astral body followed in the track of the mortal desire after the spirit came here. It is a law of nature and the final effort of all life that retains active sympathy with the mortal part.

Each of the other little groups was welcoming a newcomer, and the air was vocal with notes of joy, and on every side there was proof that happiness is reflective, like the brilliancy of the planets, and all those countenances, bright with smiles and glowing with innocent enjoyment, furnished a mirror which transmitted to each and all the rays of a supreme and ever-shining benevolence.

Is this heaven? I asked.

Yes, if we make it so, replied mother.

Can we make heaven?

It must be made by such as we are or its felicity foregone. Heaven is a condition, and many enjoy it in the earth life and bring it here when they surrender the mortal incumbrance. This is not just as we were taught, but the teachers were conscientious and performed a glorious work. Those mortals who meekly submit to the guidance of conscience are the salt of the earth, and no one is condemned for an honest belief, even if it is founded in gross ignorance.

Then there is hope for the heathen?

Certainly. There is no discrimination in matters of abstract faith, nor intention of condemning Plato, Epicurus and Diogenes by any rule that would not apply equally against Bishop Butler, Dr Channing and the Prophet Isaiah.

This was a revelation. I have had many, but few were equally startling. Some here are not absolutely happy, for they are in semi-darkness, although in the immediate presence of those who have the blessed light. They are progressing and sure to reach the better condition through perseverance in good works, for the inducement to persevere is the motive of all their hopes.

The world is fairly supplied with the truth that is adapted to man's nature and capacity, and he is not required to reach for that he cannot grasp and assimilate. Duty is by no means complex unless made so by finely-drawn abstractions and those gossamer lines between the two tweedles, which so often have made theology a reproach rather than a sacred and dignified science, and when thus prostituted the sense of duty in intelligent men is succeeded by disgust. Spirits partake of the same feeling and deprecate it as disastrous to the highest interests of the race.

It is said that death is the end of woe. This is true with those who have led honest lives. Those who have not so lived will find that they have cheated themselves rather than the world and that the result is tedious and perplexing discomfiture. Lives that if lived by some would be strictly honest and commendable, if lived by others would be a cheat and obnoxious to the severest condemnation. These two classes will certainly be judged according to their lights, and the intent of an act will have much to do in making the status of its performer. If there is such a place as hell, it is not paved with good intentions, but most likely with those of the contrary brand.

Encyclopaedia of Death and Life in the Spirit World