From T.LOBSANG RAMPA's book:
"I believe" - part II
ALGERNON awakened in the morning to bright sunshine and the sounds of birds singing in the branches of trees - bright sunshine? Algernon remembered with a start that this was not sunshine. Here there was no sun, the air itself was alive. He pushed aside the coverlet (sengeteppe) and swung his feet out on to the floor, and walked to the window. Outside everything was as bright and as cheerful as it had been yesterday.
- WAS it yesterday? Algernon was completely disoriented, he did not know if there were days or nights, there seemed to be no record of the passing of time. He went back to his bed and lay down upon the coverlet with his hands at the back of his head while he thought of all that had happened.
Again there came a discreet knock at the door, and at his bidding a man entered, a very serious looking man, one who appeared most thoroughly to know his duties. 'I have come to talk to you,' he said, 'because we fear that you are in grave doubt as to the reality of what you are experiencing.'
Algernon put his hands by his side and with his military training he almost 'lay to attention' as though he were in a military hospital. 'Everything I have seen, sir,' he said, 'contradicts (motsier) the teachings of the Christian Church. I expected to be met by angels, I expected them to be playing harps, I expected to see Pearly Gates and cherubim, but instead I find that the place might well be a glorified Green Park or Hyde Park, or any well-kept park. I might also,' he said, 'have been experiencing hallucinations in Richmond Park.'
The new doctor laughed and said, 'Well, you are not a particularly strong Christian. If you had been, let us say, a Roman Catholic and you really BELIEVED in your religion then you would have seen angels when you came here, and you would have seen those angels until the falsity of their appearance made you instead realize that they were but phantoms of your imagination. Here we deal in reality. Because you are an experienced man of the world, because you have been a soldier and have seen death as well as life, you could see us as we really are.'
Algernon thought of some of the scenes from his past. 'Death,' he said, 'I am most intrigued (fengslet) by this matter because death is such a thing of terror on Earth, people are desperately afraid to die. And a matter which has always amused me greatly, is that the more religious a person, the more greatly they feel terror at even the thought of death.' He smiled and clasped his hands and continued. 'I have a very revered friend, a most ardent (glødende) Catholic, who, whenever he hears that a person is ill and near death, will always say how glad he is that poor Mr. So - and - so is getting better, and is in such good health! But tell me, sir,' said Algernon, 'why is it that if there is life after death that people fear death?'
The doctor smiled at him rather quizzically (spørrende) and said, 'Well, I should have thought that a man of your education and experience and perceptions would have realized the answer. As obviously you have not, let me explain; people go to Earth to accomplish certain things, to learn certain things, to experience certain hardships that the spirit or soul or Overself - call it what you will - may be purified and strengthened thereby. So if a person commits suicide then it is a crime against the programme, against the plan of things. And if people saw how natural death is and how it is just birth into another stage of evolution - then they would be wanting to die all over the place and the whole purpose of Earth and other worlds would be lost.'
Certainly this was a new thought to Algernon although, indeed, a logical one. But still he was not satisfied; 'Then am I to understand that the fear of death is artificially induced and is wholly illogical?' he asked.
'Yes indeed,' said the doctor. 'It is a provision of Nature that everyone shall fear death, everyone shall do everything they can to preserve life so that the experiences on the Earth may be maintained and carried through to their logical and predetermined result. So if a person commits suicide then they are throwing everything out of gear. Mind you,' he said, 'when the time for a natural death comes there is normally no fear, there is normally no pain because people in another realm of the astral can say when a person is due to die or, as we prefer, undergo transition(overgang), and as that time approaches a form of anaesthesia (bedøvelse) is generated and instead of the pangs of death (dødskvaler) - there are pleasant thoughts, thoughts of release, thoughts of going Home.'
Algernon started up in some indignation. 'Oh, but that cannot be,' he said, 'for people who are dying often twitch and thresh about and are obviously in very great pain indeed.'
The doctor shook his head sadly; no, no,' he said, 'you are in error. When the person is dying there is no pain, but release from pain. The body may twitch, the body may groan(stønne), but that is merely an automatic reaction from certain stimulated nerves. It does not at all mean that the person is enduring pain. The onlooker usually is no judge of what is going on. The conscious part, which is about to undergo transition, is divorced (skilt) from the physical part, which is the mere animal being. So - wait!' he said, 'when you committed suicide you felt no pain, did you?' Algernon rubbed his chin deep in thought, and then he replied hesitantly, 'Well, no, I suppose I did not. I cannot remember having felt anything except an extremely cold sensation and then nothing more. No sir, perhaps you are right, come to think of it, no, I did not feel any pain, I felt bemused(forvirret), I felt wondering.'
The doctor laughed and wrung his hands saying, 'Ah, now I have you! You admit you felt no pain, and yet you were screaming like a stuck pig. And, by the way, with a stuck pig all you get is the air in the lungs being expelled rapidly and agitating the vocal chords so that one gets a high pitched squeal(skrik). There was the same sort of reaction with you, a long high pitched squeal interrupted by the bubbling of your blood as it emerged copiously from the slash in your throat. It was the high pitched squeal which brought the unfortunate serving maid into the bathroom.'
Yes, it seemed logical enough now. Algernon was beginning to see that this was not hallucination but fact, and then he said, 'But I understood that when a person died he would immediately be taken before God to be judged. He would immediately see Jesus and perhaps the Holy Mother and the disciples.'
The doctor shook his head sadly, and replied, 'But you say you thought you would see Jesus; supposmg you had been a Jew, supposing you had been a Moslem, supposing you had been a Buddhist, would you still expect to see Jesus or do you think that in Heaven the place is divided up into separate countries where people of each religion go? No, the whole idea is absurd, nonsense, criminal folly, and foolish preachers on Earth really pollute the population with their horrendous (forferdelige) legends. People come here and they think they are in hell. There IS no hell - except Earth!'
Algernon really jumped. He felt his body twitch as though on fire. 'Oh, then am I in Heaven?' he asked.
'No, indeed not,' replied the doctor. 'There is no such place. There is no Heaven, there is no hell, but there is purgatory ("skjærsild"). Purgatory is a place where you purge (utrenser) your sins and that is what you are doing here. Here you will shortly be met by a committee who will help you to decide what you are going to do when you return to Earth. You have to return to Earth to live out the plan which you yourself have made, and, actually, that is why I came here now, to see if you are ready to be presented before the committee.'
Algernon felt a twinge (stikk) of fear, he felt as though icy fingers were going up his spine. It sounded worse than an army medical board in which doctors probed and prodded and asked the most embarrassing questions about one's reactions to this and that, and how one was going to manage (forvalte) about a sex life, and was he married, had he a girl friend? No, Algernon could not summon any enthusiasm whatever for going before a board of - what?
'Well,' he said, 'surely I am to be given time to recover somewhat from the extreme trauma of passing over from life to This. Admitted that I came here of my own volition through committing suicide - which appears to be such a heinous crime, but I still think that I should be given some time to recover and to see what I want to do. And while I am on the subject,' he said, 'how can suicide be such a heinous crime if people do not know that they are committing a crime? I always understood that if a person was not conscious of doing ill, then he could not he punished for so doing.'
'Oh nonsense!' exclaimed the doctor. 'You are like all those of your ilk (slag) who think that because you come of a higher class - you are entitled to special consideration. You always try to rationalize. It seems to be a vice of your type. You knew perfectly well that it was wrong to commit suicide, even your own peculiar form of religion as taught down there, instils in you that self-destruction is a crime against the person, against the state, and against the church.'
Algernon looked frightfully sour and said, 'Then how do you account for Japanese who commit suicide if things go wrong with them? If a Japanese man thinks he has lost face, then he disembowels himself publicly. That's suicide, isn't it? He is doing what he believes, isn't he?'
The doctor looked most distressed and replied, 'It does not alter the matter in the slightest that it has become a social custom in Japan to destroy oneself rather than face embarrassment (forlegenhet). Let me tell you - let me get this rammed into your subconscious; suicide is NEVER right. Suicide is ALWAYS a crime. There are never any extenuating (formildende-) circumstances for committing suicide. It means that a person is not evolved enough to continue that which they took on of their own volition. But let us waste no more time,' he said, 'you are not here for a holiday, you are here so that we may help you make the most of your forthcoming life on Earth. Come!'
He rose abruptly and stood over Algernon who bleated plaintively(trist), 'Well, don't I get a chance to have a bath? Don't I have any breakfast before I am dragged away?'
'Bosh!' exclaimed the doctor in irritation. 'Here you do not need a bath, here you do not need food. You are cleansed and fed by the atmosphere itself. You are beggaring the question because you appear to be not much of a man, just one who tries to evade (unnvike) all his responsibilities. Come with me.'
The doctor turned and made for the door. Very, very reluctantly indeed Algernon rose slowly to his feet and followed him. The doctor led the way out. They turned to the right and entered a garden, which Algernon had not previously seen. The atmosphere was wonderful, there were birds in the air and many pleasant animals lying around, and then as the doctor and Algernon turned a corner, there appeared another building. It looked as though it were a cathedral, there were spires to it, and this time - instead of a ramp going up - there were many, many steps. They climbed the steps and went in to the cool recesses of a mighty building. Many people occupied the entrance, there were people sitting on comfortable benches around the walls. Again, in the centre of the vestibule (forhall), there was what seemed to be a reception desk, circular as before - but this time it was staffed by much older people. The doctor led Algernon up and said, 'We have come to go before the Council.'
One of the assistants rose to his feet and said, 'Please follow me.' With the assistant leading the way, the doctor and Algernon followed. After a short walk down a corridor they turned left into an ante-room. The assistant said, 'Wait here, please,' while he continued and knocked on a door and entered when bidden to do so. The door closed behind him and there could be heard the very faint murmur of voices.
Some moments later the assistant came out again and held the door open, saying, 'You may enter now.' The doctor jumped to his feet and took Algernon by an arm and led him in.
Involuntarily Algernon stopped in astonishment when he entered the room. It was a very large room indeed, and in the centre there was a globe slowly turning, a globe with blues and greens. Instinctively Algernon knew that this was a simulacrum of the Earth. He was both fascinated and intrigued to see that the Earth-globe was turning, turning without visible means of support. He seemed to be in space gazing down upon the Earth, which was illuminated by some unseen sun.
There was a long table, very highly polished, very intricately carved, and at one end of the table a very old man was sitting, white-haired, white-bearded. He looked benign (mildt) - but yet at the same time he gave an impression of sternness (strenghet). He gave the impression that should the occasion warrant it - he could be a very tough person indeed.
Algernon took a fleeting glance, and there seemed to be eight other people sitting at the table, four were men and four were women. The doctor led him to a seat at the foot of the table. The table, Algernon saw, was so arranged, so shaped that the other members could all see him without even turning in their chairs and briefly he wondered at the craftsmanship which could have worked out such intricate geometry.
The doctor said, 'This is Algernon St. Clair de Bonkers. We have determined that he has reached a state of recovery, which will enable him to profit by your advice. I present to you Algernon St. Clair de Bonkers.'
The old man at the head of the table nodded briefly for them to sit down. Then he said, 'Algernon St. Clair de Bonkers - you are here because you have committed the crime of suicide. You killed yourself in spite of the plans you had made and in defiance (trass) of Higher Law. Do you wish to say anything in your defence first?'
Algernon cleared his throat and shivered. The doctor leaned across and whispered, 'Stand up!' Reluctantly, Algernon got to his feet and said rather defiantly, 'If I made an arrangement to do a certain task, and if conditions not of my choosing made it impossible for me to do that task - then surely my life being my own, I have every right to terminate it if I so choose. I did not decide to come to this place. I decided merely to terminate my life.' So saying he sat down with a defiant thump (dunk).
The doctor looked at him sadly. The old man at the head of the table looked at him with great sorrow, and the four men and the four women looked at him with compassion as if they had heard it all before. Then the old man said, 'You made your plan, but your life is not your own. Your life belongs to your Overself - that which you call your soul -and you have injured your Overself by your recalcitrance (gjenstridighet) - and by your foolish method of depriving your Overself of its puppet (altså ment slik her - at overselvet styrer det lavere jordiske selv som en styrt tråddukke - sprellemann). Because of this you will have to return to Earth and live a whole life again, and this time be sure you do not commit suicide. Now we have to decide the best time for you to return, and the best type of conditions for you, and to find suitable parents.'
There was considerable rustling of papers, and one member rose from his seat and moved closer to the globe. For some moments he stood there looking at the globe but saying nothing. Then, still silent, he moved back to his place at the side of the table and made a notation on his papers.
'Algernon,' said the old man, 'you went down to Earth in conditions of great comfort. You went down to an old established family where all your creature comforts were attended to. You had every possible consideration. Money was no object. Your education was of the very best obtainable in your country. But have you thought of the harm that you have done in your life? Have you thought of the brutality, have you thought how you used to strike servants? Have you thought of the young maid servants you have seduced (forført)?'
Algernon jumped to his feet in indignation. 'Sir!' he exclaimed heatedly, 'I was always told that the maid servants were there for an unmarried son's convenience, to be his playthings, to learn about sex. I have done no wrong no matter how many maid servants I have seduced!' He sat down, fairly seething with indignation.
'Algernon, you know better,' said the old man, 'you know yourself that class, as you believe in it, is merely an artificial thing. On your world if a person has money or comes from an old family which has been favoured then they have a lot of concessions. Whereas if a person is poor and has to work for one of these other families they are denied concessions and treated as inferior creatures. You know the law as well as anyone, for you have lived many times and you have all' this knowledge within your subconsciousness.'
One of the women sitting at the table pursed (strammet leppene) her lips as though she had just tasted an extremely sour gooseberry(stikkelsesbær), and she said primly, 'I wish to put on record my opinion that this young man should restart his life as one of the under-privileged. He has had everything his own way. I think he should start again as the son of a lesser tradesman or even the son of a cowherd.'
Algernon jumped to his feet in fury. 'How dare you say things like that!' he shouted. 'Do you know that blue blood runs in my veins? Do you know that my ancestors went on the Crusades? My family is one of the most respected families.' He was interrupted in mid-stream of his speech, as it were, by the elderly chairman who said. 'Now, now, let us not have arguments here. It will do you no good at all. It will merely add to the load, which you have to bear. We are trying to help you, not to add to your Kharma, but to help you to lessen it.'
Algernon broke in truculently, 'Well, I am not having anyone say things about my forebears. I suppose yours,' pointing an irate finger at the woman who had spoken, 'came from brothel keepers or whore house managers, or something. Pah!'
The doctor firmly grasped (grep) Algernon's arm and pulled him down into the chair, saying, 'Be quiet, you clown, you are making things so much worse for yourself. You don't know the first thing about this place yet, keep quiet and hear what is said.'
Algernon subsided (satte seg) with the thought that he was indeed in purgatory (skjærsild) as he had already been told, but then he listened to the chairman who said, 'Algernon, you are treating us as though we were your enemies. Such is not the case. You are not here as an honoured guest, you know. You are here as one who has committed a crime, and before we go any further in this matter, there is one thing I want to make clear; there is no such thing as blue blood in one's veins. There is no such thing as inheriting (arve-) class or caste or status. You have been brain-washed, you are bemused by the legends and fairy tales that you have been told.' He stopped for a moment to take a sip of water, and then he looked at the other members of the Board before continuing.
'You must have in your mind the definite, definite thought that entities from many many worlds, from many many planes of existence go down to Earth, one of the lowest of the worlds, to learn by hardship that which they seem incapable of learning by kindness. And when one goes down the earth- one adopts the body most suited for the fulfilment of ones task….
Here we jump to a point where they prepare him - they now call him by a number - 53 - after his "arrival-number" to these particular plane or department - prepare him for his quick return to a new incarnation on earth. Relative quick - because he committed suicide. Here we continue from page 76
…after a decent interval the door was slowly opened and there was the doctor. He glanced in for a moment, and then said, 'Ah, are you ready? Twentyfour hours have now elapsed.' (His advisers had given him some alternatives to choose from regarding his coming life on earth - and the time to think over this selection - he was given "24 h".)
Fifty-Three ( - well - Algernon) put a leg over the side of the bed, then lethargically put the other one over. Slowly he sat up. 'Have you decided to which family you are going?' asked the doctor.
'No, dammit, no, I haven't given it a thought.'
'Ah!' said the doctor, 'so you are fighting every inch of the way, eh? (He didn't want back to this hard school - as we well can understand - cant we? R.Ø.remark.) Well, it doesn't matter to any of us, you know, although you will find it hard to believe. We are indeed trying to help you, and if you, by your procrastination (forsinkelse) miss this opportunity - you will find that opportunities are fewer and fewer and the families (to incarnate in…) get less and less.'
The doctor went to the table and picked up the folder marked 53, and idly he flipped through it. 'You have a choice of five families here,' he said, 'and some get no choice at all, some are just directed. Let me tell you something.' He eased himself into the chair, leaned back and crossed his legs gazing sternly at Fifty-Three. Then he said, You are like a spoilt child giving way to immature rage (umodent raseri). You committed a crime, you messed up your life, now you have to pay for it, and we are trying to arrange that you pay for it on the most comfortable terms. But if you will not corporate with us, and if you just insist on behaving like a spoilt baby, then eventually you will come to the point when you have no choice where you can go. You may find yourself as the child of some under privileged black family in Mombasa, or possibly sent as a girl-child to a family in Calcutta. Girls in Calcutta are not worth much, people want boys they can help - and as a girl-child you might find yourself sold into prostitution or into conditions where you are a virtual slave.'
Poor Fifty-Three sat bolt upright on the edge of the bed, his hands very tightly grasping the edge of the mattress, his mouth wide open and his eyes wild and staring. He looked much like a wild animal that had just been captured and put in a cage for the first time. The doctor looked at him, but there was no sign of recognition, no sign that Fifty-Three had heard the remarks.
'If you persist in your stupid recalcitrant (gjenstridig) attitude and make it so much more difficult for us, then as a last resort we may send you to an island where only lepers (spedalske) live. You have to live out the other thirty years which you skipped before, there are no two ways about it, there is no way of overcoming it, it is the Law of Nature. So you'd better come to your senses.'
Fifty-Three sat there in an almost catatonic state. So the doctor got up, went to him and slapped his face, first one side and then the other. Fifty-Three jumped to his feet in rage and then slumped. 'Well, what CAN I do?' he said, 'I am being sent back to Earth as member of one of a deplorably low form of life. I am not used to being of such low status.'
The doctor looked truly sad, and then sat down on the bed - beside Fifty-Three saying, 'Look, my boy, you are making a grave mistake, you know. Supposing you were on Earth now and you were a member of the theatrical community. Suppose that you had been offered the part of King Lear, or Hamlet, or someone like that; well, possibly you would jump at such an opportunity. But then after the play was over, after the audience had gone, and after the producers had decided upon a new production, would you insist that you were King Lear or Othello or Hamlet? If you were offered the opportunity of being, for example, the Hunch back of Notre Dame or Falstaff, or someone of lesser status, would you say that such was unworthy of a person who had been King Lear or Hamlet or Othello?' The doctor stopped speaking. Fifty-Three sat on the bed idly scraping the floor - scuffing the carpet - with a foot, and then he said, 'But this is not play-acting, I was living on Earth, I was a member of the upper class, and now you want me to be - what is it? The son of a publican (krovert), the son of a bus driver, or whatever!'
The doctor sighed, and then said, 'You were upon Earth to live out a part. You picked, before you went to Earth, what you thought would be the best conditions for you to enable you to be a successful actor. Well, you failed, The act was a flop, so back you go to a different condition. You've got a choice, in fact you have five choices. Some have no choice.'
He jumped to his feet saying, 'Come, we have dallied (somlet) too long already and the council will be becoming impatient. Follow me.' He moved to the door and then, on an impulse, turned back to the table and picked up the file marked 53. Tucking it under his left arm he reached out his right hand and grasped Fifty-Three by the arm, shaking him roughly. 'Come!' he said, 'be a man. You are thinking all the time of how important you were as an officer. Surely an officer and a gentleman doesn't behave like this cowardly (feig) slobbering person that you have become?'
Sullenly (mutt) Fifty-Three got to his feet and together they went to the door. Outside a man was just coming down the corridor. 'Oh!' he said, 'I was coming to see what had happened. I thought perhaps our friend was so overcome with sorrows that he couldn't get off his bed.'
'Patience, friend, patience,' admonished (formanet) the doctor, 'we have to show tolerance in a case like this.'
Together the three men walked along the corridor, back through that long tunnel again, past the watchful guards who this time just inspected them, and then they went on to the door.
'Come in,' said the voice, and the three men entered the room. This time there was the elderly grey-haired man sitting at the head of the table and on either side of him there were two other people, one man and Qne woman, dressed in their long green coats. The three turned to look at Fifty-Three as he entered. The man at the head of the table raised his eyebrows and said, 'Well? Have you decided which you should be?'
The doctor nudged (dyttet) Fifty-Three who was standing there in sullen silence. 'Speak up,' he whispered. 'Can't you see they are losing patience with you?' Fifty-Three stepped forward and without being invited to do so slammed himself down in a chair.
'No,' said he. 'How can I decide? I have only the briefest details of these people. I have no idea of what conditions I will encounter. I know I find a publican as extremely distasteful, but possibly an ironmonger (jernvarehandler) would be even more distasteful. I am quite ignorant of such people, never having encountered them on a social basis in my life. Perhaps you, sir, with your undoubted experience, would be prepared to advise me.' Fifty-Three looked insolently at the man at the head of the table, but he just smiled tolerantly and said, you are extremely class conscious, and I agree with you that the honourable trade of inn keeper or public house manager or ironmonger would be too much for your subconscious. I could indeed, though, very strongly recommend that eminent public house in Cable Street (in London ), but for one of your type given to too much snobbishness I will, instead, suggest another family, that of the greengrocer(grønnsakshandler). The father is Martin Bond and the wife is Mary Bond. Mary Bond is almost of full term and if you are to take over the body of her as yet unborn child - you must lose absolutely no more time, you must come to your senses and decide, for only you can decide.'
'Greengrocer!' thought Fifty-Three. 'Rotten potatoes, stinking onions, overripe tomatoes. Faugh! However did I get in a mess like this?' He twiddled his fingers, scratched his head and squirmed miserably in the chair. The others in the room kept quiet, they knew of the desperate state, which one got into at having to make such a decision. At last Fifty-Three raised his head and said defiantly, 'Well, I will take that family. They might find they've got a better man in their family than they ever had before!'
The woman sitting at the side of the table said, 'Mr. Chairman, I think we should run a series of checks on him again because we have to see that he is still compatible with the mother. It would be a terrible thing for the woman if after all she has gone through her baby was stillborn(dødfødt).'
The man at the other side of the table said, 'Yes,' and he turned to look at Fifty-Three. 'If the child is stillborn that still does not help you because you would be returned here on the grounds that your lack of corporation and your intransigence (stahet) will have caused the woman to lose her child. I do suggest for your own sake - it really doesn't matter to us - - that you co-operate more, that you try to make a more equable temperament, or you may find that we shall have to send you anywhere like garbage being thrown out.'
The woman rose to her feet, hesitated a moment, then turned to Fifty-Three and said, 'Come with me.' The chair-man nodded and also rose to his feet. The doctor touched Fifty-Three's arm and said, 'Come along, this is it.'
Reluctantly, like a man facing execution, Fifty-Three climbed sluggishly to his feet and followed the woman into a side room. Here things were very different. The whole walls seemed to be flickering lights behind frosted glass. There seemed to be a remarkable number of knobs and buttons and switches. Fifty-Three thought for a moment that he had got himself into an electric power station, but then directly in front of him was a peculiarly shaped table, a very peculiarly shaped table indeed. It seemed to be the outline of a human figure, arms, legs, head and everything. The woman said 'Get on that table.' For a moment Fifty-Three hesitated, then shrugging his shoulders, he climbed on to the table brusquely (bryskt) brushing off the kindly hand of the doctor who tried to assist him. As he lay on the table, he found a most peculiar sensation overtook him; the table seemed to mould itself to him. He had never felt more comfortable in his life. The table was warm. Looking up he found his sight was not so good as it had been, it was blurry. Faintly, indistinctly, he could make out shapes on the wall in front of him. Vaguely and strangely uninterested he gazed at the wall and thought he could distinguish (skjelne) a human form. It seemed to be a female form. At a rough guess Fifty-Three thought she was in bed, then as he watched through lacklustre (matte) eyes, he had an impression that someone was pulling back the bedclothes.
A distorted voice came to him, 'It seems to be all right. I say he is compatible.' It was very strange, very strange indeed. Fifty-Three had an impression that he was 'going under' an anaesthetic(bedøvelse). There was no struggling, no apprehension (engstelse), there was not even clear thought. Instead he lay there on that form-fitting table, lay there and gazed up uncomprehendingly (kompromissløst) at the people whom previously he had known so well. The doctor, the chairman, the woman.
Vaguely he was aware that they were saying things: 'Compatible basic frequency.' 'Temperature inversion.' 'A period of synchronization and stabilization.' And then he smiled drowsily (døsig) and the world of purgatory slipped away from him and he knew no more of that world.
There was a long sounding silence, a silence which was not a silence, a silence when he could feel but not hear vibrations. And then suddenly it was as though he were thrust into a golden dawn. He saw before him a glory such as that which he could never remember having seen before. He seemed to be standing bemused and half-conscious in a glorious, glorious countryside. In the distance there were tall spires and towers and about him there were many people. He had the impression that a very beautiful Figure came and stood beside him saying, 'Be of good heart, my son, for you are going down to the world of sorrow again. Be of good heart for we shall be with you keeping contact. Remember you are never alone, never forgotten, and if you do that which your inner conscience dictates - no harm will befall you, but only that which has been ordained (befalt), and at the successful conclusion of your time upon the World of Sorrows, you will return to us here triumphant. Rest, be tranquil, be at peace.' The Figure turned away and Fifty-Three turned over in his bed or table, or wherever he was, and slumbered, and was at peace. And he knew no more in his consciousness of that which had happened.
ALGERNON shuddered violently in his sleep. Algernon? Fifty-Three? Whoever it was now, he shuddered violently in his sleep. No, it was not sleep, it was the most terrible nightmare he had ever in his life experienced. He thought of an earthquake which had happened near Messina, Salonika, where buildings had toppled and where the earth had yawned and people had fallen through to be squashed flat as the earth, yawning, closed again.
This was terrible - terrible. This was the worst thing he could ever experience, the worst thing he had ever imagined. He felt that he was being mashed and squashed. For a time in his confused nightmare state, he imagined that he had been caught by a boa constrictor in the Congo and was being forced willy nilly down the snake's throat.
All the world seemed to be upside-down. Everything seemed to be shaking. There was pain, convulsions(kramper), he felt pulverized, terrified.
From a distance away there came a muffled scream, a scream as heard through water and thick swadding. Barely conscious in his pain he made out, martin, Martin, get a taxi quickly, it's started.'
He mulled over the name. 'Martin? Martin?' He had a vague, but only a very vague recollection that at some time somewhere in some life he had heard that name before, but no, try as he would he could not bring back into his memory's recall what the name meant or to whom it was applied.
Conditions were just terrible. The squeezing went on. There was the horrid gurgling of fluids. For a moment he thought he had fallen into a sewer(kloakkrør). The temperature increased and it was truly a shocking experience.
Suddenly, violently, he was upended and he was conscious of terrible pain in the back of his neck. There was a peculiar sensation of motion, nothing that he had ever experienced before. He felt suffocated(kvelning), stifled, he felt as though immersed in fluid. 'But that can't be, can it?' he thought, 'Man can't live in fluid, not since we emerged from the sea anyhow.'
The joggiing and jolting continued for some time, and then at last there came a jolt and a very muffled bubbly voice snarled, 'Careful man! Careful! Do you want her to have it here in the taxi?' There 'was some sort of mumble in reply but it was all dreadfully muffled. Algernon was nearly out of his mind with confusion, none of this made any sense to him, he just did not know where he was, did not know what was happening. Things had been quite fantastically terrible of late and it was no longer possible to act as a rational being. Dim memories floated into his consciousness. Something about a knife somewhere, or was it a razor(what he made the suicide with). That had been a terrible dream! He had dreamt that he had half hacked off his head, and then he had looked at himself while he was hanging half-way through the ceiling, upside down he was, too, looking at himself lying dead on the floor. Ridiculous, completely absurd, of course, but - and what was this other nightmare? What was he now? He seemed to be some sort of a convict (fange) accused of some sort of a crime, he did not know what it was at all. The poor fellow was nearly out of his mind with confusion, with distress, and with fearful apprehension of impending doom.
But the joggling went on. 'Careful now, careful I say, go easy there, bear a hand behind, will you.' It was so muffled, so unreal, and the tones were so coarse. It reminded him of a costermonger he had heard once in some back street of Bermondsey in London. But what had Bermondsey got to do with him now, where was he? He tried to rub his head, tried to rub his eyes, but to his horror he found there was some 'cable or something encircling him. Once again he thought that he must be in a lower astral because his movements were constricted - this was just too terrible for contemplation. He seemed to be in a pool of water. Before it had seemed to be a sticky mess (klebrig søl) when he had been in the lower astral - or had he been in the lower astral? Dazedly he tried to force his reluctant aching mind to search along the paths of memory. But no, nothing was right, nothing would focus with clarity.
'Oh God!' he thought worriedly, 'I must have gone mad and be in an asylum for that condition. I must be having living nightmares. This just can't possibly happen to any person at all. How could I, a member of such an old and respected family, have come down to this? We have always been respected for our poise and our sanity. Oh God! What has happened to me?'
There was a sudden jolt, a most inexplicable occurrence, a sudden jolt, and then the pains came again. Dimly he became aware of someone screaming. Normally, he thought, it would have been a high-pitched scream but now every-thing was muffled, everything was so incredibly strange, nothing made any sense any more. He lay back in wherever he was and found that this time he was on his face, and then a sudden convulsion of 'something' whirled him about, and then he was on his back again -shuddering with the whole fibre of his being, trembling in terror.
'I tremble?' he asked himself in horror. 'I am nearly out of my mind with fear, I am an officer and a gentleman? What is this evil thing which has befallen me? Of a verity I must be suffering from some grave mental affliction. I fear for my future!' (Remember he was in total darkness inside his coming mama. R.Ø.remark.)
He tried to clear his mind, he tried with all the mental power at his command to think what had happened, what was happening. All he got was confused improbable sensations, something about going before a Board, something about planning what he was going to do. And then he had been resting on a table - no, it was useless, his mind recoiled at the thought, and for a moment went blank.
Again there came a violent movement. Again he was convinced that he was in the coils of a boa constrictor being prepared for crushing and digestion. But there was nothing he could do about it. He was in a state of utter terror (fullstendig skrekk). Nothing seemed to be going right. How had he got in the clutches of the boa constrictor first, and how could he be in a place where there were such creatures? It was all beyond him.
A terrible screech muffled badly by his surroundings shook him to the core. Then there came a violent wrenching and tearing and he thought that his head was being torn from his body. 'Oh my God!' he thought, 'then it IS true, I DID cut my throat and my head is now falling away from me. Oh my God, what shall I do?'
Shockingly and with terrifying suddenness there was a gushing of water, and he found himself deposited on some-thing yielding. He found himself gasping and struggling. He seemed to have a warm wet blanket over his face, then to his horror he found pulsations, pulsations, pulsations, strong urgings were forcing him through some very narrow, cloying, clinging channel, and something - it seemed to be a cord fixed around his middle - tried to hold him back. The cord he could feel twisting around one of his feet. He kicked violently to try to free it because here he was suffocating in humid darkness. He kicked again, and a wild screech, louder now, burst out from somewhere above and behind him. There was a further terrific convulsion and twisting and he shot out of the darkness into a light so dazzling bright that he thought he had been struck blind on the spot. He could see nothing but from the very warm surroundings he had had now he was precipitated on to something rough and cold, the cold seemed to seep into his bones and he shivered. To his amazement he found that he was sopping wet, and then 'something' grasped him by the ankles and whisked him up into the air upside-down.
There was a sharp 'slap, slap!' across his buttocks and he opened his mouth to protest at the indignity, at the outrage (udåd forøvet--) perpetrated upon the helpless body of an officer and a gentle-man. And with his first scream of rage all memory of the past faded from him as a dream fades at the opening of a new day, and a baby was born.
Of course not every baby has experiences such as this because the average baby is just an unconscious mass of protoplasm until it is born, and only when it is born does consciousness take over. But in the case of Algernon the matte was somewhat different - because he had done the suicide - and he was a very difficult case indeed. But also because he returned with a special vocation (kall) - and so the knowledge of what was that vocation had to be passed form the astral world - through the being-born baby and straight on to the mental matrix (støpeform) of the new-born child. (the vocation was to be a doctor - and so - help people. R.Ø.anm.)
Yes, Algernon got the name Alan Bond in his new life, and grew up as the only son of a "low-cast" family - who had a hard life in a small rented shop, where they sold vegetables. But Alan had all ready, from he was a child - a drive in him self to be a doctor. The poor family could not afford this education - but a nearby kind-hearted doctor helped him to manage the costs of that education. For some years he later had a medicine - practice, with this lovely, helpful doctor - Dr. Reginal Thomson, who also became as a father to him. He was very esteemed - considered well - from almost everybody, in his "new incarnation" as a doctor - so long in this life. Here we again enter the text from the book, where the Second World War is just to begin, from page 114.
….months rolled by, and the war was not getting anywhere, it was the period of the phoney war. One day a policeman came to Alan, carefully ascertained that he was Dr. Alan Bond, and then said that his mother, Mary Bond, had cornmitted suicide and the body was now in the Paddington Mortuary. (His father had died some time earlyer - and his mother reproached him for not taking enough care of his father).
Alan was shocked almost out of his mind, he did not know why but this was the most terrible thing he had ever heard. Suicide! For years he had been preaching against suicide and now his own mother had committed such an insane act.
Soon there came a stepped-up war with bombs dropping on London. All the time there were reports of German successes, the Germans were winning everywhere and in the Far East the Japanese were sweeping all before them. They took Shanghai, they took Singapore. Again Alan tried to join one of the Services, and again Alan was rejected being told he was of more use where he was.
The raids became worse. Night after night German bombers came across the coast and made for London. Night after night the dock areas were bombed and the East End of London was set afire. Alan worked very closely with the A.R.P. people - the Air Raid Precautions people - and indeed had an A.R.P. post in the basement of the house. Night after night the raids continued. Fire bombs rained down, termite bombs bounced off rooftops, and sometimes going right through to set an entire house on fire.
There came the night of a very bad raid indeed. The whole area seemed to be on fire, the wailing, moaning of the sirens went on continuously. Hoses from fire appliances snaked over the roads and made it impossible for the doctors to use their cars.
The night was a moonlit night, but the moon was obscured by the red clouds going up from the fires, showers of sparks flying about everywhere and all the time the hellish scream of falling bombs, some fitted with sirens to their tail fins to increase the din and increase the terror. Alan seemed to be everywhere, helping pull bodies out of wrecked shelters, crawling through holes which had been forced in ba~ ments to bring relief from pain to shattered bodies inside. On this particular night Alan stood getting his breath and getting a cup of tea from one of the emergency canteens. 'Whew!' The A.R.P. warden with him looked up and said, 'That was a close one.' Alan looked away and saw the whole skyline in flames, billowing smoke was everywhere. Above it all there came the 'thrum-thrum4hrum' of the uneven, unsynchronized engines of German aircraft. At times there came the 'chatter-chatter-chatter' of British night fighters shooting their machine guns at the invaders outlined by the fires below.
There was a sudden 'Woomph' and the whole world seemed to tilt. A whole house leapt up in the air, disintegrated and came down in pieces. Alan felt screaming agony envelop him. The air raid warden who was untouched looked around and screamed, 'Oh my God, the doc's hit!' Frantically the A.R.P. men and the rescue squad tried to pull blocks of masonry off Alan's legs and lower abdomen. Alan seemed to be in a sea of fire, the whole of his being was apparently being consumed by running fire. Then he opened his eyes and said weakly, 'No point in bothering with that, men, I'm finished, just let me be and go on and look for someone not so badly injured.' With that he closed his eyes and lay for a time. He seemed to be in a peculiar state of ecstasy. 'This isn't pain,' he thought to himself, and then it occurred to him that he must be hallucinating - because he was floating above himself upside-down. He could see a bluish-white cord linking his body in the air to the body on the ground, and the body on the ground, he saw, was completely smashed from the navel down, he was just a smear as though raspberry jam had been spread on the ground. And then it flashed across his mind that today was his thirtieth birthday. With that the silver cord seemed to wither and fade and Alan found himself floating up just as though he were in one of the barrage balloons (sperrebalonger) floating above London. He floated upwards, he could see shattered London receding from his gaze, he was upside-down. Suddenly he seemed to bump into a dark cloud and for a time he knew no more.
'Fifty-Three! Fifty-Three!' a voice seemed to be dinning into his head. He opened his eyes and looked about, but everything was black. He seemed to be in a black fog. Then he thought to himself, 'I don't know about this, seems familiar somehow, wonder where I am? Must be having an anaesthetic or something.' And as he thought that the black cloud became grey and he could see shapes, moving figures, and then it all came back to him. He was in the astral, so he smiled, and as he smiled the clouds, the fog and the mist all vanished and he saw the glory of the real astral plane. About him were his friends for only friends could be on such a plane. He looked down at himself with shock for a moment and then hastily thought of the first garment he could think of - the white coat he had used in St. Maggots. Instantly he was clad in a white coat, but he was shocked for a moment at the gales of laughter which greeted him, then he looked down and remembered that his last white coat had been waist length because in the hospital he had been a specialist.
The real astral was very very pleasant. Alan was taken off by joyous friends to a Rest Home. Here he had a room, which was a very pleasant room indeed, he could look out on to glorious parkland with trees such as he had never seen before. There were birds and tame animals wandering about, and no one harmed any other creature.
Alan soon recovered from the trauma of death on Earth and rebirth into the astral, and then a week later, as was always the case, he had to go to the Hall of Memories where alone he sat and watched everything that had happened in his last life. At the end of that period of time, which could not be measured, a gentle voice said from 'Somewhere', 'You have made good, you have done well, you have atoned (gjort godt igjen). Now you may rest here for a few centuries before planning what else to do. Here you can do research or anything you wish. You have done well.'
Alan walked out of the Hall of Memories to be greeted again by his friends, and together they went off so that Alan could find a home where he could enjoy himself and think what would be the best to do.
I believe that all people, no matter who they be, should be taught that there is no death, only transition. And when the time of transition comes - a beneficent Nature smooths the way, eases the pain, and makes conditions tranquil for those who BELIEVE.
End of extract
Some of Rampas books can still be purchased from webshops - but the prices varies - so look at many and compare. Search for Lobsang Rampa on the fine search-engine FAST - (link here) - and you will find link to different bookshops where some of his books can still got hold of.
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