posted on Jan, 16 2009 @ 07:24 PM
When they saw my beautiful guide though, they rushed to him and fell on their knees and pleaded in many tongues and voices.
I asked my guide 'why are they happier, but on their knees pleading in a language I do not know? Why are they not on the path?' he replied 'because
they are happy here with their fellow men mostly, until they see me, and then they know not the words to make known the feeling in their hearts, and
they know not who I am as no one has told them of me'.
I felt sorry for these people, but as we walked away, they fell back to the trees and started dancing and eating once more. I then knew it was the
light that had drawn them, not the path, and saw they were happy in their being.
We walked further on upwards, and the savannah turned into a beautiful meadow of lush grass, beautiful forests and rivers, small groups of people
happy in each others company, and when they saw my guide they waved and walked over. They reached out to touch my guide and spoke of their love and
thanks to him, but many said 'I will wait awhile for my (insert relative or friend here) as they have yet to join me, and I want to greet them and we
will journey together. My guide hugged them and bade them farewell, and the people stayed at the paths edge to wave us farewell as we moved on. My
guide spoke first.
'They know me, they know the path, and yet they are so full of love and compassion for those they left behind that they forsake their path to wait
for their loved ones to journey with them so they too shall know the path upwards and not get lost nor strayed from it'.
I was awestruck at the compassion and love shown, and when I looked back, I saw many walk downwards towards the other areas and collect people stood
looking lost and bewildered, turn them about and start upwards just as I was. We walked onwards.
We then came to a mountain slope, and it was snow covered and bright bright white; so bright it almost glowed from within. I was awestruck at such a
majestic place, and yet was not cold nor felt a wind upon me.
We walked on the snow, leaving only the slightest footprints as if we were just mere feathers, and carried on. Here, beautiful people stood waiting.
They reached out to my guide, welcomed him, had words for him and then I noticed the path had gone.
'Come, follow me' said my guide, and again I took no hesitation, I walked with him off the edge of the mountain and into the clouds. I asked my
guide 'What is that area? So bleak, so barren and white, yet those people wait for you there?'.
My guide stopped and turned to me and said; 'That is where they have no wants, they have no needs, they stand there to guard peoples upon the path,
and to greet them as they make that final walk towards the light and many lose heart as it seems so bleak and barren. Bleak and barren it may look,
but it is pure, pure as the purest snows and brighter than any star in the mortal heavens'.
I then realised I was dead. I looked at my guide, and yet felt that panic go in an instant, to be replaced with a sheer soul filling joy so bright and
alive I started to glow from within. We stepped forward and we were in the light.
On reaching the light I was amazed, totally and utterly lost for words at what was before me, and what reached my ears. The light was not a light at
all, but billions upon billions of people stood tall and proud, shining like stars, and singing the most beautiful heart stopping musical notes I had
ever heard. I started to feel beauty well within me and I just knew I wanted to stand with those people. My guide took me by the shoulder and carried
on walking. The wall of people parted, and we walked on through towards a golden warmth that was.
That may sound very strange, but this light, this golden light was everything; it just was. Alive, warm, loving, accepting, sentient, it just was. I
was awed, shocked, filled with joy, speechless all at once. My guide turned again to me and took me once more by the shoulder and walked me to the
light. In a blink of an eye and yet an eternity I was taken to review my life.
I was 4 years old, and running for my life. The garden had turned from my place of sun and safety to a cold, unforgiving landscape filled with pain.
Running after me was three small ugly beings, and as I reached the rear door to the house one reached out, yanked me off my feet by the hair and
lifted me into the sky and upwards into a red disk. I was returned crying and blood pouring from my nose.
I felt no pain as I reviewed this, just an overwhelming sadness and desire to reach out and comfort my small form; to offer it love and words to
comfort it, and to wrap it up in love and defeat these beings that had snatched me from my garden.
I was 9. I was on holiday with my school in Wales. We were on a river bank watching the wildlife, when a small red squashed football shaped craft
stopped dead over head and again three small beings stood in front of me. The world seemed to flicker in and out of reality, and once again I was
yanked into the air, to be returned amongst my friends, time frozen and their stiff rigid faces filled me with fear but their eyes seeing nothing.
Time resumed, people ran to the teachers, one in tears, but no one knew why they were so scared.