Where do people go after death?

Most people believe in some form of life after death—most, however, are less certain what happens after death—where we go after death?

In this not too untypical recount of a Spirit's passing on to the realities of another life, we come to an understanding that death (so-called) is a rebirth into a newer and deeper level of existence—

The Accident

A rifle shot startled her horse.

As he sprang forward and rushed on regardless of all efforts to control and keep him in the road, the horse flew on, becoming more and more frightened until by a sudden turn its rider was thrown to the ground—her skirt becoming entangled, she was dragged some distance.

She was found insensible and remained in this condition until death closed her eyes and they opened to the realities of another life.

On Awakening

Consciousness dawned upon her benumbed and deadened faculties a week later.

The memory of that awakening was like the faint echo of far-off music—with half-closed eyes, she enjoyed the beautiful sights, delicious odours and sweet sounds that surrounded her.

From this delightful, visionary mood, she slowly drifted back to the full possession of conscious being and realised that she was not dreaming, not gazing upon a vision, but that realities surrounded her.

She examined with intense interest the profusion of wonderfully beautiful flowers that attracted her attention.

The vast apartment was literally alive with these children of beauty.

The walls were semi-transparent, and in places, literally covered with feathery mosses and fine, delicate vines trained in forms of artistic elegance.

Among the bright, green moss, gleamed little golden flowers, so arranged, as to form words—Repose, Rest, Peace, Love—these and many others, sometimes whole sentences, apparently growing in the strangely illuminated walls.

The light falling through tinted windows was soft and mellow, rustic chairs and lounges cushioned with moss were seen as far as the eye could reach.

A soft, velvety carpet covered the floor, while the vaulted ceiling was of a deep blue, spangled by golden stars, their beauty half-veiled by silvery cloudlets, such perfect copies from Nature that she could readily imagine herself gazing at the sky.

The air of this splendid apartment was filled with fragrance, and melodious with soft, sweet strains of distant music, mingled with the murmur of fountains and the song of many golden-winged birds flitting among the flowers.

It was sweet, natural and restful.

At last, the question, How did I come here? disturbed her tranquility of mind.

She closed her eyes and tried to recall the past.

Slowly, the bygone years came back—childhood—the poverty and inharmony of her home—the stern, hard man she had called father—the pale, patient suffering mother—the bright, sweet sister—the appearance of the phantom form—the death of her little brother and mother.

Each event was as clear and distinct, as the reality had been, and each scene awakened the peculiar feelings and emotions that had belonged to it—every event of earth life was depicted with perfect clearness and she could truthfully say that she lived over again every phase of the existence she had passed through up to the very closing scene.

Until this was presented, she had not realised that she was dead.

Dead! she startingly exclaimed and wrung her hands in despair—with one bound she sprang to her feet and pulled aside the swaying vines that partially concealed a crystal mirror.

No, she was not dead!

The delicate features, the finely rounded form, smooth, white skin, long and darkly shining hair, large lustrous eyes, rich full lips—this picture spoke of life and beauty.

Heavenly Visitors

Her mother entered, accompanied by two spirits whom she had known in earth life.

They greeted her as one arisen from the dead and painted in glowing colours the beauty of the world they lived in.

She was glad to meet these friends, especially the sainted Mother whose youth and beauty astonished her, being far superior when seen in a Spirit world by Spirit vision.

Her robe was of soft, silvery brightness, falling around her perfect form in wavy outlines.

The Light of Mother Love had not faded from her face.

She placed the hand of her child in hers and whispered his angel name.

How tall he had grown, so perfect in proportion!

Ah, Mothers, if you could but see the happy change wrought in your little ones when borne away to the Gardens of Paradise, you would no longer grieve without hope!

As soon as possible, the newborn Spirit signalled her desire to be alone with Mother.

It was granted, and they sat upon one of the rustic seats and enjoyed a sweet communion.

Mother gave her a history of her experience in Spirit life.

Questions and Answers

There were many questions she would like to ask in regard to the new life that had been so suddenly forced upon her.

In answer to her request, her mother sat down by her side, and shaking down the delicate vines said—

Now my child, be as brief as possible, tomorrow you will be stronger and better prepared, for the consideration of subjects, which at present seem wrapped in mystery.

First, dear Mother, where am I?

I mean in what part of the Spirit world?

This temple is called the arbour of Repose.

It is situated in the southern portion of the lovely valley of Zayat.

That signifies a place of rest for travellers!

Is this valley dedicated to that purpose?

Many temples, similar to the one you are now in, occupy beautiful sites, and are used for the reception and entertainment of those who pass suddenly from earth.

What! are all suicides and all who die by accident brought to this place?

No! Many are received by friends and congenial associates in the sphere below this.

Then this sphere is not the nearest to earth? No.

Is this entire sphere devoted to the purpose to which the valley is dedicated?

No, the northern part is inhabited by a refined and intelligent class of persons whose most powerful attractions are toward the earth, which they frequently visit, and there are also other classes, some dwarfed by earth experiences, others, angular and unbalanced.

Why do those Spirits remain there—are they held by physical force?

The scenery is more beautiful than any your eyes ever looked upon and their homes more attractive—there, all the pleasures and benefits to be enjoyed by refined and delicate natures may be found.

Spirits remain there because it is their will to do so—it is near the earth to which many of them cling with the deepest affection, while others who have outgrown the attraction that once held them prefer to remain and acquire the knowledge and experience they should have gained on earth.

Mother, is your home in that beautiful place?

Not at present—I remained there for years and have many warm friends who still linger there.

You have spoken of the Spirits of that sphere frequently returning to earth—can they not as easily descend from other and higher planes?

Certainly, but their mission is purified from all selfishness and is wholly for the good of humanity.

What class of Spirits occupy the first sphere?

The coarse, unrefined and unfortunate—I mean those who on earth are termed low, depraved and wicked.

Must I pass through that sphere in again returning to earth?

Certainly no, it would seem that there could be little opportunity for improvement where there is congregated all that is vile and low in nature?

That place has not been set apart for that class of Spirits—they simply gravitate to it, nor is it left like a plague spot upon the glory and brightness of the Summer Land.

Missionaries are constantly labouring to enlighten and heal the sin-sick souls, and they are ever passing on to higher schools in another portion of this sphere.

Do they not have any high, strong laws that regulate and restrain these turbulent natures?

Certainly, the sphere is not given over to their control, nor are they as vicious as when on earth—they do not have unlimited power when permitted to re-enter the magnetism of earth.

Should I remain, where would be my home?

With the Phantom Form until the attraction, which now holds you is broken—or has become mutual.

Do spirits grow weary?

Spirit is never disconnected from matter—the fine organisation endures longer, but it, too, requires its period of rest, and I have learned that this law holds good throughout all the realms of Spirit existence.

I should reason that the body that wearies would sometime decay.

Yes, Child, it is said there is a process analogous to death, but I have not seen it.

How soon can I return?

Day after tomorrow. 

Day! Do you have night here?

Something that resembles it—a lesser light.

Phantom Form —Experiences in Earth and Spirit Life —A True Life History