It’s important to cultivate a faith in the afterlife, an assurance that consciousness and identity continue after the change called physical death. For, no matter what your belief is, the eternality of the soul is a reality.
Those who are unacquainted with what happens after the soul leaves behind the body at physical death—and especially those who disbelieve in an afterlife—sometimes find themselves in perplexing circumstances.
To disembodied souls, the “soul body” is just as physical and solid to them as their physical bodies were, and instead of moving on (because they don’t know they are supposed to), they remain on the earth plane among people who are still physically embodied. The only problem is that disembodied souls usually cannot make themselves seen or heard by those still living. When loved ones and helpers in the spirit world come to escort them away from the physical realm, they refuse to go because they don’t believe they are “dead” (physically) and have no concept or belief in an afterlife.
The danger for these souls is becoming stuck on the earth plane instead of progressing to the joys of life in the higher astral realms.
The Plight of Geoffrey
Gladys Osborne Leonard
Geoffrey was killed during an air raid. His mother came to Gladys soon afterward in an effort to get in touch with him, and it wasn’t long before communication was well established. He told his mother what had happened just after the bomb fell on the building in which he lived.
He seemed to have been unconscious for a time, then he became aware of a pleasant lightness of body and cheerfulness of mind—a feeling that all was well with him such as he had never experienced before. For a little while he basked in this happy state of well-being. Then he realized that he was lying on the ground, amid a scene of desolation and destruction. An unknown voice whispered to him, “Don’t be disturbed or distressed at what you see around you. Detach yourself from it, then you can free yourself and come away with us to where you belong. You have no connection now with these conditions.”
“Yes, I am connected with them,” he answered. “I can’t leave them. There’s something I must do here. I must pull myself together and find out what’s happened.”
And he turned away from the unseen helper and tried to think what he must do. As he looked at the debris around him he began to recall hearing a tremendous noise. Then the full memory of the air raid came back to him. It seemed extraordinary to him that he felt no pain. Surely he must have been injured, but he obviously wasn’t. As he had often watched the wounded being carried away on stretchers after an air raid, feeling sorry for their sad plight, he now had an intense sense of relief at his own escape.
He thought of his mother and wished to see her as quickly as possible in order to let her know that he was not only alive but uninjured; he got up and walked to the corner of the next street, where he usually met her. When she wasn’t there, he waited some time. Then, although he found it difficult to fit the most natural and simple ideas together in his mind, he finally recalled that she’d gone to the country for a few days. There was nothing to do but wait for her return, but he wondered where he should go to spend the night, since his building was demolished. Seeing two people he knew, he approached them.
Geoffrey had always been somewhat reserved—liked and respected, but not in the habit of forming close friendships easily. The few people who knew him well valued his friendship and responded warmly to it, so he was quite perplexed when he got no response from these friends to his greetings. He repeated them several times over, still with no effect. Beginning to feel worried, he stood squarely in front of the person he addressed, but he apparently was not seen. His friends seemed to look through him, not at him. As he walked away sadly, he watched others moving with difficulty through the rubble on the street, feeling their way carefully; he realized with considerable shock that the blackout hour had arrived and, while it was evidently quite dark for them, to him it was light enough to distinguish objects and persons clearly.
Geoffrey began to wonder whether he was really as uninjured as he had thought. Perhaps he had sustained a concussion. He felt very lonely and rather frightened; he decided to do the sensible thing and go straight to a hospital. There he went up to a man on duty at the entrance desk and immediately began in a concise way to explain his condition. The man took absolutely no notice of him. He didn’t even look up from his work, although Geoffrey began shouting at him to get, his attention. Then the man got up and walked out through a doorway at the back of the room, leaving him alone and unnoticed and almost in a state of panic. In his extremity he closed his eyes and sent out a fervent prayer, an entreaty wrung from the very depths of his soul.
Almost immediately he became aware that healing hands touched him, took hold of him in a reassuring way. He felt content to surrender himself to the ministrations of these unseen friends and had no wish to open his eyes again, nor had he any curiosity regarding his helpers’ identity. He drifted into a deep sleep, giving himself up to the feeling of peace and safety that now filled him.
After a time Geoffrey awoke. He wanted to move about, to know where he was, and who the people were who surrounded him. He began to realize that many of those with him were his relatives and friends… but they were all people who had died! He thought of course that he was dreaming. Many have this reaction at first, when they are unprepared for the conditions they will find after death. In time, however, he began to wonder why his dream was lasting so long. Thinking about his mother, he stirred in an effort to move and get things done.
His anxiety was sensed by those around him, and a restraining hand was placed on his shoulder. He found himself looking into the face of a man whose expression was full of understanding and kindness, combined with a dignity of bearing that was most impressive. As Geoffrey gazed inquiringly into his face, he realized that the features were like those in an old photograph his mother had. Even before the stranger spoke and identified himself, Geoffrey was aware that this must be his father, who had died when he was an infant.
It was his father who told him that he had left his physical body forever. He would not return to it because it had been rendered useless and beyond repair, through the injuries he had received in the recent air raid.
A terrible longing for his mother seized Geoffrey when he began to consider how she would mourn for him. He yearned to tell her that he wasn’t really dead after all. At the same time, he eagerly set about getting to know his father and adjusting himself to his new environment. Almost the first thing he asked, however, was if it would be possible for him to get in touch with his mother to let her know he was still alive and well.
He was told that unless he was able to get through to her directly—and that would depend on her receptivity to him—the only means of communication was through a medium. He drew back somewhat at that. He had always been so reserved that it would be difficult for him to tell a stranger of his intimate love for his mother so that his concern could be transmitted to her. Yet even though his mother undoubtedly possessed natural psychic gifts because of her artistic and sensitive nature and would probably be more responsive to spirit influence than most people, it still might be hard for him to impress her at just the right moment, when she herself was in the proper mood. Her natural grief would cause her such distress that it was doubtful whether she could provide the necessary relaxed condition for psychic receptivity.
Geoffrey found this to be only too true when, later, he made his first attempt to speak to her. By then he’d had so many wonderful experiences in his new life that he longed to tell her about them. As he concentrated his thought on her and found himself beside her, he realized that his fears about her reaction to the news of his death were quite correct.
She lay on her bed crying. He knelt beside her, putting his arms around her and holding her to him, but there was no response. Her frail body shook with the violence of her grief; he could not get through to her in any way. It was difficult for him not to react to her emotion but he sternly forced himself into a calm frame of mind, which his father had explained to him he must do if he was to impress her with his presence. He prayed quietly yet fervently that the power would be given him to penetrate her anguish and afford her some measure of consolation. Gradually she ceased her sobbing, then raised herself on her elbows and looked around inquiringly. A dawning look of surprise, lit by the faintest ray of hope, came over her features, and she whispered inquiringly, wonderingly, beseechingly, “Geoff?”
He continued trying to impress her with a feeling of assurance as to the reality of his presence and his love for her. She seemed to receive something of this and said again, “Geoff?” Then she added, “Geoff, are you here? Is it really you? Speak to me if it’s you.”
Her son replied, “Yes, I’m here. I’m alive. Take courage to live on, to wait until the time comes when you will join father and me. We’ll meet again, and in the meantime I’ll help you in every way in my power.”
She did not hear his voice, but she became calmer and he realized that some measure of comfort had been conveyed from his mind to hers.
Later, when Geoffrey’s mother came to Mrs. Leonard, he was eventually able to communicate his whole story to her and to reassure her even further. He told her then of all the interesting and exciting activities he was engaged in, in the spirit world. He explained to her that her excessive grief was the one thing that prevented him from being completely happy in his new life.
Geoffrey’s story gives support to Sir Oliver Lodge’s appeal to all bereaved persons: “Though it is natural for you to grieve, to miss the physical presence of those whom you love, you must remember that in the early days of their new life on the other side, their happiness is in your hands. They know you will miss them, but they are able to see you often even though you are blind and deaf to their presence. The more hopefully and happily you are able to regard the time that must elapse before you can see them again, the more easily they can take up their new lives, unburdened by anxious care for you and your sorrows.”
“Yes, I am connected with them,” he answered. “I can’t leave them. There’s something I must do here. I must pull myself together and find out what’s happened.”More information:
