Fallen Masters (30 page)

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

“Very simply put and the core of all wisdom when it comes to human relationships. Could it be more clear than that?”

“The things we were taught as children, then, in school and in religious training, turn out to be the keys to true understanding.”

“Yes. There are teachers all around us, for good and ill. In classrooms and places of worship, at home and in the village, and all teachers of good say basically the same thing. And all teachers of evil, too, influence the minds of men and women in the same way.”

“But I don’t understand what IRA is supposed to teach me and how he is to influence me.”

“By questioning, you have your own answer. Ask and you shall be answered. Knock and the door shall be opened to you.”

Caleb’s message was baffling in its simplicity. And POTUS understood, too, that he, like any human being at whatever stage of life—or after—must be exposed to both good and evil in order to understand the nature of the choices that lay before them.

Unfolding on Earth, at this very moment, was just this juxtaposition, yet the Dark Forces had carefully gathered all their strength and had coordinated their timing so that they would achieve maximum influence on the choices of a maximum number of people in the world—all at the same time. They were not holding back or playing at the margins now … It was an all-or-nothing situation with the confluence of natural phenomena and ancient black arts being brought together across the entire globe for all human eyes to see and experience.

“It’s like the Garden of Eden being replayed, only at the end of time instead of the beginning,” POTUS said. He had not even had the conscious thought, but the words came out in that way.

“You have received the insight you were meant to receive because you are open to it, not closed off by darkness, but opened by light. Happy is the man, such as you, who can see clearly not only in the light of day but in the darkest hour of night.”

“But is hope lost for the many who cannot see?”

“Hope is
never
lost. No matter how dark and dangerous the hour. Hope can triumph. Always.”

Caleb, whose visual imprint had changed from an awesomely bright and beautiful creature to a small and slender man the same size as IRA or the Governor, stood—or hovered, as it were—close to POTUS. The President could
feel
the spiritual power almost as a physical presence, as warmth and
sense
—even without the human body, which he had shed but which he yet remembered vividly—the nature of pure goodness and light which stood by him. It conveyed a sense of power and energy he had not felt since he had passed over from one realm to the other at his own death. The President was pulled out of the encounter with Caleb by IRA’s sharp words.

“Focus on what I am trying to teach you!” IRA cautioned, in response to his unspoken thoughts. He saw that POTUS was distracted but was not able to identify the cause.

“I am sorry if I seem distracted. It’s just that I have many questions, and you are trying to teach me so much. I feel as if I am starting to read too many different books and not finishing any of them.” POTUS’s mind continued to reel, and he struggled to get a handle on his thoughts, so many new and conflicting images and ideas. “The overwhelming feeling of purpose and need seems to be growing stronger within me. And I know that you are helping me as quickly as you can, but I feel like the people and energies here—the Council—they just don’t
like
me. It is so clear by the wave of feelings that are directed at me every time they are near me.”

The equivalent of tears, whatever that might be called on this side, formed in POTUS’s vision, blurring it temporarily.

IRA smirked invisibly, pleased that POTUS was still so ego-bound, then shifted his own thoughts back to POTUS. “We have much work to do,” he said. “Do not let your earthly ego get in the way of the spiritual achievements on our journey. I want to show you something else. There.”

He brought the President into a structure that resembled the Colosseum, a façade that hummed and vibrated like the rest of this spiritual city they inhabited. Everywhere he looked, he saw waterfalls. The sight didn’t make any logical sense, but there they were, countless waterfalls and waterfalls upon waterfalls flowing from—he could not see where. Each waterfall formed a swirling pool, of which there seemed to be thousands all contained in this enclosed arena.

“How is all of
this
able to fit inside of the edifice we just walked into?” The awe and confusion was evident in POTUS’s question.

“Ah, you are still employing an earthly point of view and definition to our world of energy, I see,” IRA commented, somewhat sarcastically.

POTUS winced at the implied criticism. He still had so much to learn. It was uncomfortable to be so naïve and incompetent. I should feel
good
in the light, but I don’t, he chided himself.

IRA pointed out what all the other energies were doing. They were looking in on the earthly planes of existence, the levels of spiritual evolution that humans on Earth materialized into—or incarnated into.

“So—all these waterfalls represent one person?”

“No. They represent millions of people.”

POTUS looked around at what felt like thousands of football fields for miles with thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of waterfalls as large as Niagra Falls and as small as a water feature in someone’s garden.

“Listen to the music.”

POTUS did not hear any music. But what he felt was the thoughts and feelings of millions of conversations. It was as if he was able to hear all of them, and focus on no particular one at the same time. Still, he was able to absorb the sounds—the “music,” as IRA called it—not as a cacophony, but as individual bits of data. However, he could not know whether he would be able to retrieve any of it or make any sense of it at a future moment.

“Why doesn’t this sound like noise in a cafeteria or marketplace?” he asked. “All these people’s thoughts that I am listening to—”

“Wait! First of all, you cannot read anyone’s thoughts. The Divine Source has made it so that remains the private space for all created beings. You are only able to read the projected thoughts of all living creatures.” IRA was beginning to sound slightly impatient, which POTUS thought a little odd for an “angelic” being.

“You mean, I am hearing animals, as well?”

“If it is living, you are experiencing it. Can we please start to use the terminology of this world and not your former world? How can I help you move away from it if you remain trapped there?”

“Sorry,” POTUS said, perplexed and somewhat sheepish.

This place took his breath away, figuratively. He was overwhelmed by pictures and scenes of what was happening all around the world revealed whenever he looked closely into the falls. At the same time he heard the conversations that, after a time, did start to resemble a kind of music, as IRA had called it. The falls created the most beautiful lakes and pools of various shades of blue, each one correlating to notes on a scale. And the light that shone on all these colors emanated from the Source!… How did he know that?

These things are being revealed to me, so I must keep my mind open to receive the messages that are constantly bombarding my now nonexistent brain!
Again and again he felt reduced to the status of a youngster attending his first day of school. How long ago had
that
been?

He had to ask another question: “IRA, why can’t I connect with Caleb—or with my father?” He suddenly felt a deep need to communicate with his father, yet he was uncertain as to why he included the new being whom he had just encountered only once and only a brief time ago …

IRA winced. POTUS was seeing things that he, IRA, had tried to block him from. He should not be experiencing anything but what his guide and mentor was allowing to be visible. Not his father—and certainly not Caleb. This was IRA’s primary responsibility. POTUS was resisting, not accepting the guidance IRA was supposed to provide. How would POTUS know about Caleb in the first place? Caleb would lead the newcomer down the
wrong
path, the one that the Governor and his minions intended.

It dawned on POTUS that Caleb had been there all along, present and available to him as his guide, even as IRA had done his best to lead him in the direction that
he,
IRA, had selected. Then the question became,
Why?

The apparent shift when Caleb’s name came up darkened the space between POTUS and IRA. Smiling, despite his not-so-hidden agitation, IRA said, “I guess when you are ready to see them, you will.”

“But where are they?” the newcomer demanded.

IRA sighed. “They’re here already. You just can’t see them yet. This place has many levels and dimensions that you don’t gain access to just because you died physically. Sir, you need to understand that just as in life, you are working on the evolution of your soul. You need to finish some lessons in order to advance to others. You may be here for a while.”

“How is that possible? You already told me that there is no time here. How can you say, ‘a while’?
What does that mean here?
”

IRA was trying hard not to be flummoxed by POTUS’s repeated, nagging questions but was starting to find it blocking his plan. Then a shaft of crimson light flashed around IRA. He heard the words, “Stop this now!” and responded nervously, looking down.

POTUS looked around at what could have caused IRA to react so uncomfortably. Surely, it was not solely his questions. But he could sense nothing visually or aurally and was mystified.

IRA, however, looked to his left, and standing there were a number of the Council of Elders members, including the Governor.

In that moment, POTUS felt protective toward IRA, his guide through this wondrous land of afterlife, and he sent out a thought wave of energy for the Council to step back and allow him the space to deal with IRA—and to learn what the guide was teaching him. At the same time, his natural skepticism gnawed at his spirit and he wondered just who Caleb was in the order of the universe, and he tried to tamp down his doubts and too-numerous questions.

A return thought from the Governor stated simply: “So be it.”

POTUS was pleased that the Governor trusted his judgment, in contrast to his mixed—or mixed-up—feelings about IRA.

IRA looked down and smiled. He looked back up and said, “Thank you. I am trying to help you. I want to answer all your questions, but these distractions just seem to be creating new questions for you, ones designed to stop you from achieving the greatness that I know to be your destiny.”

POTUS merely nodded and said, “What’s next on the tour?”

When he reconnected with IRA, it seemed as if many of the other energies that were in their immediate presence became invisible. POTUS was brought to another level, and IRA was firmly imbedded into the psyche of POTUS with less “competition” for his attention.

“May I show you something that we are not supposed to do?”

POTUS laughed and said, “Sure, why not?” He felt that IRA was pushing him hard, getting ahead of where he was ready to be, but he went along.

IRA pointed to a waterfall that flowed in all shades of red. IRA instructed him to bathe in it. POTUS immediately had a feeling deep inside that this direction was misguided and wrong, and that he was being led in a direction that was not healthy or correct for him. But IRA had gained his trust, more or less, and POTUS was still uncertain if he was even supposed to have “feelings.”

When he stepped toward the magnificent red waterfall, he experienced a quick visual image of the Governor looking at him as if he were the family dog about to relieve himself on the living room carpet. Then he heard the unseen Caleb tell him to trust himself. But the next thing he knew, IRA had led him right to the pool of illuminated red energy.

“I feel amazing! What is this?” POTUS exclaimed.

IRA coyly told him that the energy of the physical world can be used as a form of currency or fuel for these dimensions. “It is something that you are not really allowed to do, but from time to time, to fully understand the human experience, we bathe in this energy to reconnect and recharge.”

“I feel like Superman—for real! The vitality and force of raw energy are unbelievable. Can we do this every day?”

IRA’s eyes lit up at this question, pleased at the direction POTUS was moving—toward him, like Eve eyeing the apple in Eden. Finally, this was something that he could answer to achieve the result he wanted. He said, “The reality is you can come here any time you like. I have created access to this place for you. This vortex of light and energy will fuel our relationship and help us to move forward in a large way to accomplish our goals.”

The President stood in the humming pool of red energy, not listening to IRA’s words, which were intended to entice and confuse in any case, programming himself and recharging his essence and feeling like a child who doesn’t want to leave the amusement park.

Meanwhile, IRA stood on the sidelines like a proud parent who had taken his child out of school to treat him to a day of fun instead of fulfilling his responsibility for the education of the child. He laughed out loud as he knew that POTUS was now fueled with a newfound allegiance to the teachings of his guide, IRA.

Angels and ghosts, POTUS realized, are images that human beings use to process what they do not understand about contact between the two realms of Earth and Heaven. Our knowledge is severely limited, circumscribed by lack of spiritual preparedness and, often, willful ignorance of greater and deeper forms of learning. The reality, he could now see, was more spectacular than the human mind could imagine. On Earth, we are weighed down by cares and obsessions and fear; our eyes are heavily lidded of our own making. Very few are willing to step out of what they know into the unknown—most because they are held down by poverty or fear. And those who have means become tied to their wealth and unable or unwilling to let go, for fear of losing all.