BORN IN 1940 - Written with Assistance from Beyond?

Back in November, 2024, a friend with whom I'd just shared some extraordinary family anecdotes said to me: "You really should write these down so that they are recorded for posterity!"

Her words set me thinking and her advice suddenly seemed to suggest that immediate action was needed. So that same afternoon I went to my computer and these words came straight through  me: 'I was born in October, 1940, just as a bomb dropped yards from the maternity ward of Farnborough Hospital. That's Farnborough, Kent, not Hampshire and thankfully the bomb failed to detonate. So I lived to tell my story, such as it is.'

Well, from then on there was no stopping the flow of words. Not just words, but memories long forgotten that returned so vividly it was as if I were re-living the years from birth to the age of twenty-one.

Names and faces from the past filled my days and many of my nights. I couldn't have escaped their impact even had I wanted to do that. I had an absolute certainty that relatives and friends, long dead, had assembled to assist me in my quest.

Perhaps the oddest thing is that I couldn't do it again. Once the last full stop had been put in its place those who had peopled my pages withdrew, leaving me with a manuscript that would bear my name but which I couldn't honestly claim to have written.

That I'd been the scribe rather than the source was, and still is, a very comforting thought. I know now, more even than I knew it before, that death doesn't separate our loved ones from us. They are not lost. Far from it. The love we once shared, we still share and will for eternity. It's our earth-bound sight that limits our vision along with our blinkered perception of 'heaven'. 

We simply aren't meant to know all there is to know until we're equipped to understand things currently beyond our understanding.   

THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD

 

I just chanced upon these reassuring words from Patience Strong and felt compelled to share them with you.

I am very conscious of the Guide who's forever by my side and wonder whether you are conscious of your Guide too.

If you are, and would like to share your experiences here, please do! It would be lovely to hear from you. 

SOULMATES

Have you ever experienced a profound sense of recognition when your eyes met with those of someone you were seeing for the first time?

That is, you thought it was the first time until you realized that it couldn't be - because you already knew this person intimately. 

Then the realization grew ... and grew ... until you knew that the love between you had its source before this lifetime and that two souls were simply reuniting.

LOVE WITHOUT END

Love doesn't end with death. True love is never-ending. Our bodies are of this world and die, but our souls, holding the love that lives in us, are everlasting. How blessed we are, to love and be loved - and to reunite when the time is right! 

GRIEF - A STORMY SEA

Hard to believe, when we first 'lose' a loved one, that they are not lost and that at the right time we'll be reunited. But the grief we feel protects us in a sense, until we can remember without the gnawing pain and can begin to live again.

While living we can be comforted by the knowledge that death will reunite us and that meanwhile there's pleasure to be had - not just in new scenes and old memories but also in our certainty that love doesn't die. It exists for all time. 

WAS IT A DREAM?

 I had a similar experience to this, back when I was 25 soon after my beloved grandmother died.

I vividly remember her asking me reproachfully "Why didn't you recognise me when I came to you this afternoon, while your friend was talking to a clairvoyant?" 

As documented elsewhere on my Facebook page some time ago, I'd accompanied my friend Yvonne when she visited a clairvoyant to clarify some issues she had. After the visit, Yvonne said the visit had helped her but there was one thing that didn't make sense.

She had no recollection of a white-haired woman such as had been described to her - whereas I, listening in as invited, had related 100% to the description but felt it couldn't be meant for me.

It was that same night, as if in a dream, that my 'Nama' came to me with her reproach. She left me in no doubt about her visit - which has reassured me during all the years since.

Have you ever experienced anything like this? 

WHO ELSE BELIEVES THIS?

 There have been a number of times in my life when a white feather has arrived, seemingly straight from the sky. And whenever this has happened I've had cause to give thanks for its timely arrival.

Having caught the feather without any effort, I've studied it in the palm of my hand and felt its effects, sensing that somehow all was well. My worries had mysteriously lifted from me and I knew that I was being protected.

Have you ever experienced this? If you have, I'd love to hear about it!

WITH DEATH BEGINS LIFE

 It's exciting, isn't it, to think that with death life begins again - except in a different dimension? Our human minds are not meant to fully comprehend this concept. With limited vision here on earth, we must simply trust that our sight expands once we enter heaven.

Imagine, then, how free we'll feel after discarding our body and stepping over the threshold of eternity! There we're reunited with loved ones who preceded us and we're wrapped in the embrace of eternal love.

GONE BEYOND, BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN

The fact that most of us can't see our loved ones after they die gives rise to the belief that they have gone beyond reach. But this is an illusion brought on by the limits of our earthly vision.

Just imagine if our sight were unlimited! Then we'd have proof, instead of just promises that life doesn't end with death.

Do we really need proof, though, to know deep within our souls that death - far from being an end - is in a very real sense a new awakening?

As for the love we felt and still feel - that hasn't died. It lives on, preparing for the day we're reunited. 

LOVE BEYOND DEATH

Do you believe in love beyond death?  I certainly do – with good reason.  So perhaps this is where to begin finding answers to our question ‘what is after death?’

Love doesn’t end when we die.  At the very least we live on in the memories of those we love and are loved by.  They remember us – therefore we survive!  But what about us, once we reach ‘the other side’?  Are we still who we were – or are we now an entity without form, without memory?  Do we, indeed, exist or have we been extinguished?

Questions, questions … so many questions!  It’s time to find out whether love lives on in a more tangible form than that of memory.  So does it?  Have you come across any ‘evidence’ that it does?

When we die, leaving our body behind, our unclothed spirit cannot be seen.  So it is assumed that we have ceased to be.  But have we?

Not according to my mother, who died when she was fifty-five.  In the considerable gap between her death on 18 December and her cremation on the 27^th I was often on the telephone.  This was situated next to a rubber plant that, from its pot on the floor of my hall, reached right up to the ceiling.

As well as being very tall, the plant was healthy with innumerable shiny green leaves which, in the normal course of events, were shed very seldom – and always from the bottom, one at a time after first turning brown and ‘dying’.

It needs mentioning here that Mother had given me the rubber plant years earlier, when it was small and portable.  She had often commented, when visiting, that for it to have flourished so in my care I must have green fingers.

Be that as it may, from the day of her death I was impressed by ‘her’ plant’s behavior.  This was odd, to say the very least.  Each time I sat on the hall seat to take or make a phone call, the plant shed a leaf.

Not from the bottom – and not after turning brown.  It seemed to be a random shedding of perfectly healthy green leaves.  And they didn’t simply fall to the ground.  I would have thought they were caught on the breeze but for the fact I was sitting in a centrally heated hallway with no doors or windows open, it being an exceptionally cold December.

One leaf in particular wafted across the hall in front of my startled eyes before landing eventually on a settee several feet away from me.

I knew then that Mother had kept her promise to demonstrate that life didn’t end with death.  And by the day of her cremation, when all that was left of the rubber plant was a bare stem, even my husband (a life-long agnostic) had cause for thought when, clearly puzzled, he asked: “Didn’t your mother give you that plant?”

Since then I haven’t needed to ask myself questions about love beyond death.  If you are still questioning, do please open your mind to the possibility that, far from being an end, death is a new beginning.