THE DEAD ARE CONFUSED
I ATTEST that in necessitates a peculiar temperament to explore
the higher manifestations of life and deliberately seek to acquaint ones
self with the aspects of existence above the mortal.
curiosity-seeker who goes in
for psychical research, automatic writing, clairaudience or metaphysical
phenomena of any kind, lands in all varieties of snarls because he
expects higher manifestations of life to accord with those on this
earthly level, and when they do not do so, he becomes suspicious or
discouraged. Then too, there are cases where the inability to correlate
the methods, manners, customs, and thought processes of the different
levels, preys on the mind of the amateur investigator; he attributes
these inconsistencies to the prankings of devils; he thinks he has
sold himself to
evil forces and continually brooding over it causes a rupture in his
THERE are many
students who have gone further into phenomenal phases of psychical
researchthe so-called supernaturalthan
I profess to have gone. But over several years of intensive study and
exploring, I have come to this conclusion
the various levels of life were not different in their manifestations,
there would be no necessity for life to exist at different levels.
It is because they are
different that we have Researchto find out
wherein they are different, this, as well as to prove that those various
The profoundest thinkers and investigators in these
matters agreedand their experiments go to
provethat people do not alter their
temperaments in the slightest by dying,
but they do awaken to a world vastly different in environment. In
orienting themselves to that environmentor in
the combination of these two factors, temperament and changed
environmentsome phenomena are produced that
are often confusing on this mortal level.
I QUOTE from a manuscript that came into my office for
publication in later
Why I Believe the
Dead Are Alive
issue of my magazine: People
on the earth are much disposed to herd together according to their kind.
The rich seek each other, the poor huddle into crowded tenements, and
the thieves and gangsters have their resorts. Every city has its Four
Hundred section, its Bohemian Quarter, and its slums. In the Land Beyond
the Veil, people are also separatedon the
basis of their moral developmentinto levels,
more commonly called planes
or spheres that
surround the planet.
of lowest vibrationthough of a vastly higher
vibration than what we know on earthare
closest to the earthin fact, the lowest
intermingles with the earths surface. In a
regular ascension from the center are spheres of higher and higher
vibration, and in each of these spheres reside peopleex-human
beingsof various degrees of evolutional
development, the ignorant and the sinful occupying the lower spheres and
attaining to higher spheres as they advance in love and wisdom.
TO QUOTE further:
When a truly good man dies he is usually not conscious in the full
sense, for quite a space of time. He passes somewhat quickly through the
lower spheres, to about the Fourthor whatever
corresponds in vibration to the moral development he had attained. Those
of wicked lives remain in the First Sphere, being what is known as
Earth-Bound spirits. They are unconscious for a long while after death,
and when they arouse, find themselves in a region of almost total
darkness, bate of vegetation and inhabited by the lowest of the low and
the vilest of the vile. This condition corresponds to the Purgatory
taught by the Roman Church. Swedenborg speaks of it as
who are simply ignorant and weak, rather than downright depraved and
vicious, find themselves in the Second Sphere, where it is lighter, and
there is more opportunity to gain knowledge of higher and better things.
The great mass of everyday, ordinary people,
not very wise, neither good not bad, just full of blunders and stumbling
alongthese find themselves in the Third
Sphere. Here is where Raymond, son of Sir Olive Lodge, tells us he
landed, and though his intelligence and moral development very shortly
permitted his rising to the Fifth Sphere, yet he announced that he was
going to stay in the Third and await his parents, and so not chance
going beyond them and missing them when they came over.
THE VERY best of
mortals, men and women whose lives have been developed to the service of
mankind, go to still higher spheres, each sphere being thus inhabited by
beings of parallel development, and therefore harmonious and happy. The
higher the sphere, the smaller the population, is the condition that
follows, and the numbers in the higher spheres are reduced by the custom
of those advanced souls spending most of
their time in spheres below their own, where they go to teach and help
the les s advanced and weaker members of the race. Wherever they go they
are at once recognized by
Why I Believe the
Dead Are Alive
their brightness. There id no uncertainty as to their
mortal standing. No hypocrite in the heaven
world can pass for better than he is, and no
saint can fail to be known.
A real Master, resident of
the Ninth or the Tenth Sphere, is a most splendid object to look upon,
with serene and lovely countenance, superb beauty and dignity, and a
brilliance dazzling to the eyes.
I MENTION these matters because as one advances
in research, he finds they account for much of the inconsistency in
phenomena, and confusing reports of the after-life,
as given by those who have shuffled off their mortal coils. They also
account for the inability of certain souls to communicate at all, while
certain vile souls, on the very lowest planes next to earth, spend most
of their time raising the Old Harry with the lives of sensitive people
whom they can control and obese as soon as the psychical centers have
been awakened without full knowledge of how to utilize them.
The question is frequently asked me, why is it that I
am expounding so much about the Earthly Revisitation hypothesis, life on
life, when hundreds of other sensitives, equally as good recorders, who
make contact with those in higher planes, do not get confirmatory
statements about the process at all?
I REMEMBER once, in my own development and lack
of knowledge of these matters, crying out in anger and exasperation:
I wish these people on the Other Side would
get together and agree on their fundamentals to tell those of us on this
Now I know that there are literally millions of
discarnate souls on the Other Side, inhabiting the lower spheres where
they have no difficulty in making contact with their friends in physical
flesh, who know no more about the great life principles than they knew
while they were mortal men and women. Souls who know about the process
of earthly rebirth are high and advanced, on planes well away from the
earths surface. They are the ones most
completely apprised of the phenomena at work in letting souls get down
into earthly bodiesso that they are able to
tell us in detail about it. Those below them find themselves behaving at
the behest of Force that to them are as blind and unexplainable as those
that catch a mortal person in the whorl of a Kansas windstorm. He would
not be able to tell where the wind came from, what brought it about, or
where it was blowing him. He would only know that he was going along.
But by the same token that there are expert
meteorologists who know all about how these natural storms are caused,
where they came from and where they will expend themselves, so there are
the Great Souls up in the Lofty Sphere, who take much time and trouble
to explain to those still in earthly bodies who will listen and profit,
just what happens to them, in and out of life, cycle on cycle.
FOR THE information of the sincerely curious, I might say that I
have reason to
Why I Believe the
Dead Are Alive
believe that in my discarnate experience, which I
called My Seven Minutes in Eternity,
I attained to the Seventh Spherewhere I found
many of my friends residing in the most colossal beauty and harmony of
environment and relationships. I say this for what it is worth to those
who enjoy knowledge of such matters. But it seems to be rational and
reasonable, because of the machinery that I feel I have developed, that
I am cutting through the reaches of the various lower levels and getting
my instruction that I am passing on to my fellows now from Great and
Wise Mentors who are residing upon the Ninth and Tenth Sphere of
It is really a form of super radio, that I believe Iand
many othershave developed within our
organisms over the cycles of lives we have lived and the many descents
we have made into flesh to become masters of the process. Be that as it
may, I had to attain to conscious knowledge of these vital facts in a
new earthly body this time, by trial and error with the lesser developed
entities, by instructions over the automatic pencil, and by the final
development of my Inner Ear, before I was able to penetrate up to that
Thought velocity where I could get simon-pure instruction.
It is a process that seems to be necessary to perfect
all over again in each life cycle, although I know now that I did bring
much through with me subconsciously when I entered my present body
nearly seven decades ago. I had to reach that stage of cosmic learning
by definite experiencing, so that I could recognize to what Level of
Thought any given soul had attained who communicated with me, by the
knowledge of cosmic facts that they had to communicate.
I HAD gone through an agonizing period of
disillusion up to the time the Master Message began to be delivered to
me. Whenever I became depressed or fretted, I had opened up my sensitive
equipment to persons One, Two, and Three Plane highin
a manner of speaking. They were the ones who were tricking or confusing
And yet I did have a subconscious realization that
there was something higher and better to contact, and that by keeping on
I would contact it. I a manner of speaking, I was remembering
my own kith and kin back up there on those
lofty levels of Thought and Service. I knew that they would not let me
down. Ultimately I had to win through to my goal.
faith, it was, that kept me going, when otherwise I would have ditched
the whole business as the work of sheer evil.
It was to awaken me to
this subconscious knowledge that I found now that I had been brought
back to New York. I had been put in funds, and I had traveled back to
Manhattan from California, not to be hoaxed and disillusioned by those
on the first two planes of life who had found they could make themselves
known in my affairs, but to meet certain members of my own group in
mortal flesh who were more fully awakened that I was, propinquity with
whom soon began to bestir my own subconscious as to our group missions.
Why I Believe the
Dead Are Alive
All this time I had
steadfastly kept from writing about my discarnate experience in
California, and I had told few friends about it. I continued to write
clairaudiently, night after night, to meet people more awakened than
myself, to feel the dim stirring of recollection in my mind and heart.
The weeks began to go by.
I remained in New York, living at the Commodore Hotel,
writing many stories and articles for the national magazines, trying to
absorb the realization of the stupendous things those High Masters were
occasionally getting down to the Group.
One morning in January, I got a queer, sharp
command I shall never forget.
THE EDITORS of the American Magazine had again
and again suggested that I write the story of my rejuvenation,
but as I have said before in these pages, I had no desire to emulate Sir
A. Conan Doyle and spoil
my writing career by going Spiritualist
Really, I never expected to write of my experienceand
what was following it in clairaudient developmentunless
it might be for private distribution.
One morning early in January, I had come up from
breakfast and had prepared myself to write a fiction story, when a
semi-audible voice spoke to me in tones of terse command
All is propitious. Write the
story of your Dispensation today. You will find that it will be accepted
with alacrity and will have the repercussion in enlightenment that we
want to produce in society at this special time.
I was cheerfully willing to cooperate then. I sat down
at my machine, twirled in paper, and wrote My
Seven Minutes in Eternity in slightly less
than two hours. Some of the pages seemed literally to
I finished the
manuscript, jogged it up, clipped it in a folder, took up my hat after
hurriedly reading what I had written, and went up to the American
Magazine offices. It was then about noontime.
Ive written then article that you wanted,
I said. Here s th
e story of getting out of my body
that night six or eight months ago.
The editress before
whom I laid down the manuscript had already pinned on her hatthey
pinned their hats on in those daysand was
ready to go to lunch. But she delayed in order to read the first two or
three pages of that Seven Minutes
article. Suddenly she sprang up and went into the office of the
editor-in-chief. She was gone forty minutes. In those forty minutes I
cooled my heels and wondered if I had made a supernal ass of myself. But
Merle Crowell himself came in. There were tears on his face.
just read the story of your discarnate experience,
he said. Were
buying it from you and dispatching it to the printing-plant in
Springfield, Ohio, this afternoon to catch the current issue of The
American thats now about to go to press.
What they actually did was to stop the presses in Ohio and insert my
Minutes in Eternity story, beginning with page one, ΨllingC~łıe featured
article that had already ~aώened[~łıe March 1929, issue of the magazine.
Two weeks later, some three million people read my account of the
hyperdimensional visitation I had made out of my Altadena, California,
bungalow some eight months before.
The Crowell Publishing Company paid me $1500 foe the contribution.
Within a week it had sold out the current issue of The
American Magazine, and a mail comparable to Col. Charles Lindbergh© after
he had flown to Paris, began to show up in the offices of the publishers.
I had thrown a major switch in my personal career 0