Afterlife Experiences of People Who Find Themselves in the Spirit World's Lower Regions

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 This article presents three essential chapters from a volume in the Life in the Spiritual World series of 13 books that present the experiences of 'André Luiz' as channeled via automatic writing through medium Francisco Cândido ('Chico') Xavier (1910-2002).

 
 
A channeler whose books are known to present authentic examples of automatic writing, Francisco Cândido 'Chico' Xavier (1910-2002) brought forth Action and Reaction in 1956.  The narrative by André Luiz in Spirit provides an account of what is experienced by human beings with a guilty conscience after making the transition from Earth life to the ascended realm of existence.  This article presents passages from the Portuguese edition published by the Brazilian Spiritist Federation that was translated to English by Darrel W. Kimble and Ily Reis.  A paragraph on the back cover of a paperback edition attests — "In this volume you will find a description of the lower regions of the spirit realm and the suffering to which the guilty conscience is subject after the death of the physical body."
 
Providing readers with yet another of the hundreds of blog articles offering alternatives to commercial entertainment and regulated news pastimes for metaphysically dumbed-down consumers so that they may learn about life in the ascended realm of existence in order to live more wisely today, this article presents the first, fourth and fifth chapters of Action and Reaction.  Despite being practically blind in one eye and having left school at the age of 13, more than 490 books by Xavier were published during his lifetime.  The preceding blog article presents more information about his distinguished and celebrated life in Brazil.

 
Chico's 'chief spirit guide' 'Emmanuel' contributed some prefatory declarations to introduce this channeled book:
 

Andre Luiz wrote this book . . . our friend has revealed a small piece of the lower zones to which the guilty conscience goes after physical death.  He wishes to stress the importance of physical existence as being a true blessing of Divine Mercy, an opportunity for us to adapt ourselves to the mechanism of Infallible Justice.  For this reason, he weaves the threads of his observations with a narrative of the relationships between the sphere of incarnate spirits and the circles of purgation, wherein dwell human beings unchained from the flesh, who have become accomplices in moral delinquency.  The excesses of their own conduct have created an outward hell, which is nothing more than a reflection of our inner selves, when, through negligence and cruelty, we give in to practicing degrading actions that force us to endure temporary segregation in the deplorable consequences of our wrongs.
 
 
Both on and off the earth, the more enlightened the individual, the more responsible he or she becomes through the shackles of his or her own conscience for falling into the thorn bushes of guilt
 
 
. . . so that our spirit may live harmoniously, duly adjusted to the dictates of the Perfect Universal Life in accordance with the norms of Eternal Justice, instituted by the supreme balance of God’s laws.

  
Instruction from the "venerable visitor" called 'Minister Sanzio' is featured in two chapters of the book.

 

 Minister Sanzio

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Minister Sanzio articulates some overview perspectives about what may be learned about the Laws supervising all individual inhabitants of the realms beyond what is known to people during the physical life on Earth —
 

. . . any good done to whomever and wherever is a living resource benefiting the person who does it.

 
[upon being asked to speak about 'karma'] "Yes, karma, an ordinary expression among the Hindus and which means action in Sanskrit, actually implies cause and effect, since every action or movement is the result of previous causes or stimuli.  For us, it means the account we all must pay, including all our debits and credits.  There are accounts of this kind not only listing and defining individual persons but also peoples and races, states and institutions."

 

The Minister paused as if to perceive that the subject was complex, and continued: 

 

"In order to better understand karma or 'the account of destiny created by us,' we must remember that the Governor of Life also has a bookkeeping system that is expressed in the mechanics of inalienable justice.  If in the circle of earthly activities any organization needs to set up such a system in order to perform the tasks that are its responsibility, God's Organization, which entails the whole universe, would not be able to function without order either.  Because of this, the Divine Administration has knowledgeable departments for relating, preserving, commanding and enriching Cosmic Life, with everything governed under the magnanimity of the broadest love and the fairest justice.  In the sublime heavenly regions of each world that is dedicated to intelligence, reason and the progress of God's children shine the angelic genii responsible for efficiency, beauty, betterment and ascension of the Sublime Endeavor, with suitable ministries in charge of loans and postponements, special credits and extraordinary resources for all incarnate or discarnate spirits who deserve them because of their service to the Eternal Good; and in tormented regions like this one, swept by cyclones of regenerative pain, we have the authority to promote charges and auditing, readjustment and recovery of all those who made themselves multiple debtors to Divine Justice: authority that purifies evolutionary pathways and restricts the manifestations of evil.  Thus, earth's religions were right when they located heaven in the higher realms and hell in the lower ones, because in the former is the increasing glory of the universe, whereas in the latter is the purgation and renewal necessary for life so that it may purify itself and rise to the splendor of the heights."

 

As mentioned in other recent articles — One of the influences leading to entertainment dominating people's activity is the rejection of the Divine Dispensations made discernible through a variety of paranormal phenomena manifested throughout the world during the epoch of Spiritualism and evolved to the forms of authentic 'deep trance,' 'overshadowing' or 'total takeover' channeling occurring today in extensively documented case chronologies.   Fear of unknown powers superseded intelligent investigation.  As innate human creativity became exalted in the popular culture, people became enthralled with movies, television shows, plays, novels, computer games, sports and the music industry.  The shared Superconscious Mind therefore must give lessons in oblique ways through contemporary entertainment media.  An example is shown below from 1983.

 

 

1

A Light in the Darkness

"No," Instructor Druso told us wisely, "the study of the spiritual situation of the human individual after the death of the body cannot be relegated to a secondary position.  All the civilizations that preceded the western glory of modern times dedicated special attention to the problems of what happens beyond the grave.  Egypt maintained ongoing communications with discarnates and taught that the dead underwent a severe evaluation by Anubis, the jackal-headed god, and Horus, the hawk-headed god, along with Maat, the goddess of justice, to decide whether their souls should ascend to the splendor of the sun or return to the mazes of earthly trial in deformed and vile bodies.  The Hindus believed that, depending on the decision of the Judge of the Dead, discarnates would either ascend to Paradise or descend into the precipices of the kingdom of Varuna, god of the waters, to be isolated in torture chambers, bound to one another by infernal serpents.  The Hebrews, Greeks, Gauls and Romans held to more or less similar beliefs, convinced that the heavenly heights were reserved for spirits who were upright and good, pure and noble, whereas those who had debased themselves in wickedness and crime awaited the torments of hell in the regions of dread either on this world or somewhere else, through reincarnation in bodies misshapen by expiation and suffering."

 

The conversation fascinated us.

 

Hilario and I were visiting "Mansao Paz" [Literally "Mansion of Peace." — Tr.], a noteworthy institute of readjustment headed by the kind and selfless Druso.

 

Situated in the Lower Zones, the institute was similar to a "St. Bernard's monastery," in that it was located in a region punished by a hostile natural environment.  The difference was that the almost constant snowfall around the famous monastery on the slopes between Switzerland and Italy was replaced around the institute by thick darkness, which, at the moment, had become even heavier and more dreadful, as if whipped by an incessant gale.

 

Under the jurisdiction of "Nosso Lar," [Literally "Our Home."  See the book Nosso Lar . . . — Tr.] the welcoming shelter was founded more than three centuries ago and is dedicated to receiving unfortunate or infirm spirits who have decided to work on regenerating themselves.  After some time, these individuals may either be admitted to more advanced colonies in the higher realms or return to the human sphere for rectifying reincarnation.

 

With that purpose in mind, the vast building, resembling a huge citadel equipped with every means of security and defense, maintains departments of assistance and education, where, after earthly death, doctors, priests, nurses and teachers find learning experiences and activities of the highest importance.

 

Our plan was to make a few observations concerning the laws of cause and effect — the karma of the Hindus — and so, after having been duly recommended by the Ministry of Assistance, we found ourselves here, enraptured by the explanations of the director, who, after a lengthy pause, proceeded attentively:

 

"It is important to remember that the earth is seen from a wide variety of perspectives.  To the astronomer, it is a planet orbiting the sun; to the warrior, it is a battlefield whose geography is changed by the tip of the bayonet; to the sociologist, it is a large stronghold where different races coexist; but to us, it is a valuable arena of spiritual work, something like a filter in which the soul purifies itself little by little over the course of the millennia, developing divine qualities for the ascension to heavenly glories.  Thus, it is vital to keep the light of love and knowledge burning amid the darkness, just as it is necessary to keep medicine focused on the disease."

 

As we talked, we gazed outside through the transparent material of a broad window at the tumult of nature.

 

A raging windstorm carrying a dark substance similar to airborne dirt whirled violently in a strange vortex like a dark waterspout.

 

From the monstrous body of the dreadful storm, human faces emerged, twisted in horror, cursing and moaning.

 

They appeared suddenly, linked to each other like enormous chains of creatures holding on to each other in a moment of peril in their instinctive anxiety to prevail and survive.

 

Like us, Druso contemplated this sad picture with visible compassion written on his face.  

 

He looked at us silently as if inviting us to reflect.  He seemed to be implying how sorrowful the work was for him in that place of suffering, when Hilario asked:

 

"Why not open the doors to those who are crying for help out there?  Isn't this supposed to be a rescue outpost?"

 

"Yes," answered the Instructor, very moved, "but rescue is only truly meaningful for those who actually want to be rescued."

 

And after a short pause, he continued:

 

"Here, on this side of the grave, the most painful surprise for me was exactly this: meeting human beasts that used to live in the flesh as ordinary people.  If given shelter here without being duly prepared, they would immediately attack us and destroy this institute of peaceful assistance.  We mustn't forget that order is the basis of charity."

 

Despite this serene and firm explanation, Druso concentrated on the scene outside, compassion still showing on his face.

 

The Instructor recomposed his facial expression and added:

 

"We are being hit by a large magnetic storm today and many wanderers in the lower zones are being blown about by the hurricane like dead leaves in a gale."

 

"Are they even aware of it?" Hilario enquired, perplexed.

 

"Very few are.  Souls who wander like that after the grave are ones who have no worthy principle in which to take moral shelter.  On the inside they are as agitated and dark as the storm itself because of the out-of-control and cruel thoughts they nourish.  They hate and destroy; they bite and wound.  Giving them shelter straight away in these sanctuaries of assistance would be like giving shelter to bewildered tigers among the faithful praying in a temple."

 

"But do they stay so terribly maladjusted forever?" insisted my distressed friend.

 

The director tried to smile and answered:

 

"Of course not.  Such a phase of unconsciousness and madness passes like a storm, although the crisis sometimes lasts for many years.  Beaten by the tempest of trials that impose pain from the outside inward, the soul transforms and composes itself little by little so that it can finally accept responsibility for what it has created for itself."

 

"So that means," I said in turn, "that, after death, the pilgrimage of the spirit’s purgation in the realms of darkness and suffering is not enough to pay all the debts of the conscience . . ."

 

"Exactly," Druso clarified, interrupting my reticent question.  "Despair is like a state of dementia into which souls fling themselves in explosions of intemperance and rebelliousness.  That doesn’t count as payment in the divine courts.  It wouldn't be right if the defaulter could use screams and profanities to settle the debts it contracted with its own free will.  Moreover, from the mental disobedience in which we have carelessly indulged, we always emerge even unhappier and more in debt than before.  When the fever of insanity and rebelliousness is over, the guilty spirit turns to remorse and penitence.  It calms down, like the earth returning to serenity and patience after being hit by an earthquake, despite having been mangled and wounded.  Then, like soil that has become productive again, the spirit submits once more to the renewing sowing of its destiny."

 

A cloud of tormented expectation had come over us, when Hilario considered:

 

"Ah!  If incarnate souls could die in the body only a few days every year, not like the physical sleep during which they recover, but with full awareness of the life that awaits them!"

 

"Yes," Druso added, "that would certainly change the moral face of the world.  In any event, human existence, no matter how long it may be, is simply a learning experience in which the spirit asks for beneficial restrictions to put it back on the right path.  Using a new physiological machine amongst its fellow humans, it must see to its own renewal, and this requires focusing its mental powers on the earthly experience that temporarily shapes it."

 

The Instructor's fluent, wise words truly enchanted us, and because I felt that I ought to make the most of the time, I silently pondered the condition of the discarnate souls suffering the strain of the storm outside.

Druso perceived my mental inquiry and smiled as if waiting for me to ask a clear and positive question.

 

Commanded by the power of his gaze, I commented respectfully: 

 

"In light of that pitiful spectacle outside, we must, of course, wonder about where those experiencing the immersion in this whirlwind of horror came from . . . Are they ordinary moral delinquents or are they criminals accused of major wrongdoings?  Might some of them be young souls from our indigenous peoples, for instance?"

 

Our friend's answer came quickly.

 

"I too had similar questions when I came here.  I have been living in this place of assistance, prayer and hope for fifty years now.  I crossed its threshold as a critical patient after discarnation, and I found it to be both a hospital and a school.  With proper support, I began to study my new situation and was eager to serve.  I pushed gurneys, helped with the cleaning, became a nurse, a teacher and a magnetizer, until some years later, I was delighted to accept the job of guiding the institution under the positive command of the instructors who supervise us.  My duties demanded patient and laborious research, and I can safely say that only those consciences that committed deliberate crimes, thereby turning off the light of their inner equilibrium, commingle in the dense darkness out there.  Having committed only the natural errors of their first experiences on the earth, young souls do not pass through these lower zones in any kind of purgative affliction.  Because of magnetic attraction, every spirit is yoked to its proper circle of evolution.  Until they develop their mental world, most primitives almost always live confined to the jungle that comprises their interests and dreams, and are only gradually taken from their tribal grounds under the direction of the benevolent and wise spirits who watch over them.  As for the souls who are notoriously primitive, the majority develop under the guidance of kind spirits, who support and inspire them by means of sacrificial work at the bottom of the social institution, utilizing moral errors — offspring of good intentions — as invaluable instruction that ensures their education.  Thus, I can assure you that the hellish regions per se are inhabited only by those minds that were aware of their moral responsibilities but deliberately ignored them with the foolish purpose of trying to deceive God.  Strictly speaking, hell can thus be defined as a vast arena of imbalance, established by calculated evil, born of willful blindness and downright wickedness.  There are some spirits who have lived there for centuries, who have become veritable beasts, crystallized in cruelty and selfishness.  Such sad places are a vast, vibratory province connected with earthly humankind, because all infernal suffering is nothing but a creation of humankind itself.  They function as strainers for spirits that slid into all sorts of derelictions, scorning the responsibilities the Lord gave them.  Consequently, every soul that has been endowed with the knowledge of truth and justice is responsible for upholding the good.  But if it slipped into this or that crime while on the earth, heedless of the ennobling duty that the world offered it, it will spend days, months or years in such places after the death of the physical body so that it can reconsider its attitude before reincarnating for the readjustment required of it.

 

"So . . ."

Hilario was about to draw a conclusion, but Druso anticipated his thought and summarized:

 

"So, the infernal spirits who think they rule over this region with infallible power have lived here for an undetermined amount of time, and the wicked creatures that are attuned to them, although suffering their domination, let themselves be imprisoned here for years on end.  The souls who fell into moral delinquency and vice, but who show potential for a quicker recuperation, remain here fairly briefly or come at regular intervals, learning that the price of the passions is much too high. Although they are not completely free of the dark complexities that cast them into the darkness in the first place, discarnates of this type, who begin experiencing repentance and remorse, laceration and pain, find that such places of fraternity and assistance work actively and diligently to make them feel as welcome as possible, habilitating them for the return to the expiatory experience of the flesh."

 

I was recalling the time when, disoriented and semiconscious, I myself had searched the pathways of the darkness after my disengagement from the physical body, and was confronting my own mental states of the past and present, when Druso continued:

 

"Thus, it is easy to understand that if darkness is the frame that emphasizes the light, then, as a region of suffering and disharmony, hell is perfectly conceivable, representing a just process for the filtering of the spirit on its way to the Higher Life.  All hellish places appear, exist and disappear with the approval of the Lord, who tolerates such human creations like a father who allows his children to get hurt and uses the experience to help them appreciate health.  Consequently, minds dedicated to rebelliousness and criminality may believe they are working only for themselves, but they are actually working for the Lord, who corrects evil with evil itself.  That is why everything in life is a step toward the victory of the supreme good." 

 

Druso was going to continue, but an unseen bell rang.  Seeming to be aware of time constraints, he stood up and told us simply: 

 

"My friends, the time has come for us to talk with some of the patients who have shown themselves to be peaceful and lucid.  We devote a few hours twice a week to this activity." 

 

We stood up without any further comment and followed him.

 

4

Some Newly-Discarnates

 

We came to a large enclosure built like an inner courtyard of ample and precise proportions.

 

It was as if we were entering a huge atrium, somewhat like certain railway stations on the earth.  On the seats scattered here and there sat dozens of spirits in obvious expectation.

 

Truthfully, I didn’t see one sign of complete happiness on any face.

 

The various groups, some in quiet conversation with each other, were divided between worry and sadness.

 

As we walked by them, we could overhear different dialogues.

 

In one small circle, we heard statements like:

 

"Do you think that now she'll be able to devote herself to making the necessary changes?"

 

"Doubtful.  She let her life spin out of control for too long."

 

Further along, we heard a woman talking to an anxious-looking boy:

 

"Calm yourself, my son.  According to Assistant Claudio, your father won't even be able to recognize us.  It'll take him a long time to get his bearings."

 

As we passed by, I overheard just a few bits of such conversations.

 

At a certain point in the busy courtyard, Druso kindly entrusted us to Silas, mentioning urgent obligations that demanded his attention.

 

He told us we would meet again the next day.

 

This kind promise led me to ponder the aspect of time.  Because of the ever present darkness, we didn't know if it was day or night.

 

Consequently, the huge, twenty-four hour clock there was like a compass for the traveler.  It informed me that it was the middle of the night.  [We are referring here to regions embedded in the realms of the earth itself, and thus subject to the same laws that regulate its time. —Spirit Auth.]

 

Sounds of invisible bells cut through the air.  Silas noticed our curiosity and explained that the caravan-convoy would be arriving in a few minutes.  I took advantage of those moments and asked questions that I deemed pertinent.

What kinds of individuals were we expecting?  What sorts of conditions were the newly discarnates in?  How was this "caravan-convoy" organized?  Did it arrive at the institution everyday at a set time?  Silas explained that the spirits about to arrive were part of a group of nineteen, accompanied by ten of the institution's workers leading the group.  The newly-discarnates were mentally unstable, but deserving of immediate assistance since they had neither completely given up hope nor had they completely yielded to the forces of darkness.  He also informed us that the caravan was made up of specialized workers under the supervision of an Attendant and that they traveled in simplicity, without stylish vehicles, carrying only the materials needed to move through that heavy atmosphere of darkness with the help of a few intelligent and helpful dogs.

 

Mansao Paz had two of such groups.

 

Every day, one of these groups arrived at that place of readjustment, alternating in their merciful endeavor of assistance.

 

He stated that they didn’t have a set time for arrival at the institute, however, because the journey through the realms of darkness normally depended on circumstantial factors.

 

Silas had just finished his explanation when the caravan entered the huge atrium.

 

The workers responsible for the expedition seemed at ease, although some displayed deep concern in their eyes.

 

The patients, on the other hand — except for five mindless, sleeping ones that arrived on stretchers — exhibited obvious disturbances, expressed in some as unpleasant although peaceable madness.

 

While the nurses did their best to help them kindly and attentively, and while the exhausted dogs lay down to rest, the newly-arrived spirits talked and complained. They displayed a complete mental absence of reality that inspired both pity and embarrassment.

 

Silas invited us to walk around.

 

Actually, we felt we should lend a hand.

 

The caravan head approached us and the Assistant introduced him in a friendly gesture.

 

He was Attendant Macedo, a brave conductor of assistance work.

 

Friends and relatives of the newcomers surrounded us, expressing both joy and grief.

 

A few of the women I had seen waiting anxiously a short time ago were weeping discreetly.

 

I noticed that, as disturbed as they were, these individuals recently disconnected from the dense body displayed all the signs of the diseases that had caused their discarnation.

 

A brief clinical examination would certainly facilitate an individual diagnosis.

 

A pleasant-looking woman approached a younger one who was being kindly supported by one of the institution's nurses.  She embraced the girl in silent tears.  The newly-freed girl received her affection and begged:

 

"Don’t let me die! . . . Don’t let me die!"

 

Showing that she was enclosed in the memory of the last moments in her material body, she stepped toward Silas with tormented and tear-filled eyes and exclaimed:

 

"Father!  Father, you can bless me with the last rites, but keep the scythe of death away from my soul! . . . I’ve tried to wash away my sin in the fount of charity for the poor, but my ingratitude toward my mother continues to weigh heavily on my poor conscience.  Ah!  Why did pride blind me to the point of condemning her to destitution?! . . . Why didn't I possess twenty years ago the understanding I have today?  My poor mother, Father!  Do you remember her?  She was a humble actress who raised me with enormous tenderness! . . . She dedicated her whole life to me! . . . She came down from the festive limelight of the stage to take on rough domestic labor to earn our bread . . . Society was against her, and my father lacked the courage to fight for our happiness.  He let her slip into extreme poverty.  He was cowardly and unfaithful to the commitments he freely made."

 

The poor creature paused for a moment, mixing her own tears with those of the poised woman who held her tightly.  With her mind fettered to the confession she had made in extremis, she continued as if the priest was still right beside her.

 

"Father, forgive me in Jesus' name, but when I was young and had the big dowry my father had given me, I felt ashamed of the maternal angel who had spread her white wings over my days.  I joined with the vain man I had married and kicked her out of the house! . . . Ah! . . . I still feel the coldness of that terrible night of farewell! . . . I said the cruelest things to her face! . . . To justify my vile heart, I slandered her without mercy! . . . With the intent of elevating myself in my husband's eyes, I lied that she wasn't even my mother!  I accused her of being a common thief who had stolen me at birth! . . . I remember the look of grief and compassion she gave me as she left! . . . She neither complained nor reacted . . . She just looked at me sadly, her eyes swollen from the tears!"

 

"The woman supporting her stroked her entangled hair and tried to comfort her:

 

"Don’t be so distraught.  Rest . . . just rest."

 

"Ah!  Whose voice is that?" screamed the girl, crazed with anguish.

 

And touching the kindly hands that were stroking her face, she exclaimed without seeing them:

 

"Oh!  Father!  I feel like she's right here, next to me!"

 

And turning her blank supplicant eyes to heaven, she begged in tears:

 

"O God, don't let me meet her again until I've paid my debts! . . . Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner, who offended you by humiliating and hurting the loving mother you gave me!"

 

With the help of two nurses, the kindly woman put her on a portable bed and calmed her down with incomparable tenderness.

After helping get the patient situated on the bed, Silas noticed my emotion and explained:

 

"The kindly woman who welcomed her into her arms is her mother."

 

"What do you mean?" asked Hilario, astonished.

 

"Yes, she will accompany her lovingly but without identifying herself, so that the poor discarnate doesn't suffer a harmful shock.  Perispiritual trauma entails a lengthy time of disturbance and affliction."

 

"Why did the girl decide to confess like that?" asked my friend, intrigued.

 

"That happens a lot," explained the Assistant.  "The mental faculties of our suffering sister stagnated in the remorse caused by the huge wrong she committed in her last existence, and since she was even more intensely touched by such memories when she died, she surrendered completely to them.  She was a Roman Catholic, so she still imagines herself before her priest, confessing the sin that stained her life."

 

The scene had struck me deeply.

 

The harsh reality offered by the truth led me to a dolorous thought.

 

So, on earth there was no hidden evil!

 

All the crimes and wrongs committed by human beings would be exposed, someday, somewhere!

 

Silas grasped the anguish of my reflections and came to my rescue:

 

"Yes, my friend, you've drawn the right conclusion.  God's creation is glorious light.  Any darkness in our conscience impacts our life until we wash the stain away with the sweat of our labor or our tears of expiation."

 

And amid the anguished and affectionate appeals as children, parents, spouses and friends met one another once again, the Assistant added:

 

"Usually, those who inwardly carved out the deepest hellish conditions and crystallized themselves in perilous illusions are the ones who are brought to these realms of affliction.  The Infinite Goodness of the Lord, however, allows victims that have a degree of understanding and forgiveness to act as selfless supporters of their former tormentors.  As one can plainly see, our Heavenly Father's immeasurable love covers not only the glorious lands of paradise but also the tormented provinces of the hell we have created for ourselves."

 

A poor woman burst into convulsive tears nearby, interrupting our friend.

 

With clenched fists, the wretch complained: 

 

"Who’s going to deliver me from Satan?  Who's going to deliver me from the power of darkness?  Holy angels, help me!  Help me against the dreadful Belphegor!"  [One of the demons whose portraits were drawn from nature by L. Breton and published in Dictionnaire Infernal by J. Collin de Plancy (Paris 1863).  www.rahoorkhuit.net – Tr.]

 

Silas asked us to provide her with immediate magnetic assistance.

 

Nurses came running to keep her outburst from getting worse.

"Damn you!  Damn you!"  The demented woman kept repeating, crossing herself.

 

Appealing to divine help through prayer, I tried to neutralize her convulsive movements.  She gradually fell asleep.

 

With the atmosphere now serene, Silas invited us to probe her disturbed mind, now under deep hypnosis.

 

I tried to investigate her disharmony through a quick mental analysis, and I was astonished to see that our poor friend bore horrifying thoughts.

 

Deeply rooted in her mind, I saw the animal-like figure of a tall man with a long tail and the face of a degenerate goat with hoofed feet and two horns.  He was seated on a crude chair, as if living in perfect symbiosis and mutual magnetization with the wretched woman.

 

In response to my silent question, the Assistant explained:

 

"It's a mental cliché that she herself has created and nourished.  The macabre ideas of black magic, such as the witchcraft and demonism fostered by the so-called Christian churches under the pretext of combating them, maintaining erroneous beliefs and superstitions by means of conjurations and exorcisms, create images like this one, which are absorbed by weak, imprudent minds, giving rise to epidemics of hallucinatory terror.  These contorted images are spread all over the earth through black magic literature or the careless preaching that lend them temporary vitality, and perverse discarnate intelligences use them in the same way that an artist uses sketches drawn by a child, taking them as the basis for drawings meant to impress infantile minds."

 

This explanation seemed to be the fitting key for the solution of many mysteries with regard to obsession, where the infirm start by tormenting themselves and end up tormented by spirits in tune with their imbalance.

 

Hilario had been attentively following the inner duel between the prostrated patient and the thought-form in her head, and stated, very touched:

 

"A long time ago back on the earth, I perused a book written by Collin de Plancy and approved by the Archbishop of Paris.  It contained the detailed description of various demons, and I think I saw a picture like the one we have here."

 

Silas confirmed:

 

"That's right.  According to annotations by Jean Weir, it's the demon Belphegor, who thoughtless church authorities allowed to be distributed in Catholic circles.  We know the book you're talking about.  It has caused enormous hurdles to thousands of souls who unintentionally assimilate such symbols of Satan, offering them to bestialized spirits who use them for terrible processes of fascination and possession."

 

As I pondered the problem of mental molds in people's lives, the Assistant detected my questions and pointed out good-naturedly:

 

"Here, it is easy to realize that each soul builds the hell it imprisons itself in, according to its own deeds.  Thus, we have with us the devils we desire, according to the designs chosen or modeled by ourselves."

 

The assistance work, however, required further attention, and so we moved the patient to the clean, well-furnished room that was waiting for her.

 

A few minutes later we went back to the atrium.  It was now empty and silent.

 

Only a few attentive and tireless night sentinels were keeping watch.

 

The torments I had witnessed compelled me to think.  I had done a lot of studies on thought and mental fixation, but the suffering of those newly-arrived souls had filled me with compassion, almost dread.

 

I confessed to the kind Assistant who benevolently accompanied us the indefinable torment assailing me, to which he replied wisely:

 

"In fact, we aren't even close to understanding all the creative and agglutinative power contained in pure and simple thought, and that is why we must do all we can to free human beings from all the disturbing expressions of their inner life.  Everything that enslaves us to ignorance and misery, to laziness and selfishness, to cruelty and crime strengthens the darkness against the light and hell against heaven."

 

And maybe because I eagerly wanted more information about this transcendent topic, Silas added:

 

"Do you remember reading anything about Marconi’s first experiments at the dawning of the wireless telegraph?"

 

"Yes," I said, "I remember that the scientist was still very young when he began dedicating himself to studying the observations of Heinrich Hertz, the great German engineer who conducted important experiments on electrical waves.  Marconi confirmed the theories on the identity of transmission between electricity, light and radiant heat.  I also know that, on one occasion in his father's garden, he used an oscillator along with a Popoff antenna and Branly receiver, and was able to transmit the signals of the Morse code wirelessly.  But . . . what does that have to do with thought?"

 

The Assistant smiled and said:

 

"The reference is significant for our discussion.  In addition, let's consider the television, one of the current wonders [This book was written in 1956] of the world."

 

He added:

 

"I'm referring to the subject to remind you that, in radio and TV broadcasting, the electrons that carry voice modulations and the elements that form the images travel through space at the speed of light, that is, 186,000 miles [300,000 kilometers – Tr.] per second.  That means that in just one location a broadcasting and a receiving station can both operate at the same time; hence, in one second, images and words can be sent and received simultaneously after having crossed immense distances in space in an infinitesimal fraction of time.  Now let's picture our thought as a living and active force, whose speed is even faster than light.  Emitted by us, it unavoidably returns to us, compelling us to live of our own accord in its wave of created forms, which naturally fix themselves in our mind when fed by the fuel of our desires or attention.  Hence the vital need for us always to keep ourselves in the noblest ideals and purest purposes of life, due to the fact that energies attract other energies of the same kind.  Thus, when we dwell on vice or darkness, the mental forces that we exteriorize then return to our mind, forces which are reanimated and intensified by the elements in tune with them.  Consequently, we reinforce the bars of the prison in which we thoughtlessly remain, making our soul a closed world, where the voices and images of our own thoughts combine with the suggestions of those who are in tune with our behavior, thereby imposing recurrent hallucinations on us and temporarily neutralizing our senses."

 

And after a short pause, he concluded:

 

"That is why, once the somatic body disappears in the ordinary phenomenon of death, the discarnate spirit, moving in a vehicle more plastic and more subject to influences, can spend a long time as a prisoner of its unconstructive creations, and remain in vast regions of suffering and illusion together with those who share the same deceits and nightmares."

 

The explanation could not have been clearer.

 

Hilario and I became silent, overcome with the same feeling of respect and reflection.

 

Silas perceived our inner attitude and generously invited us to take a break so that we could spend a few hours resting and . . . thinking.
 

5

Sickly Souls

 

When our break was over, Silas was encouraged by the institution's director to give us a quick tour of the grounds.

 

Moreover, Druso also granted our desire to study how the principles of cause and effect worked in newly-discarnate spirits.

 

We knew that death of the physical body was always the first step toward life's harvest, and thus we were aware of the fact that this environment would be most favorable for our constructive investigation because the immense Umbral just beyond the earth plane was packed full of men and women who had crossed over the great frontier still fully connected to the corporeal experience.

 

Hilario and I happily followed our friend and passed through the huge gate to the outside.  He was obviously aware of our objectives and told us good-naturedly:

 

"Without a doubt, for those of us who have recently returned from earth, the hellish regions, much more than the heavenly ones, are more suitable for our studies of the law of cause and effect, since crime, expiation, imbalance and pain make up part of our basic emotions in our daily toils, whereas angelic glory and bliss represent higher states of consciousness that transcend our comprehension."

 

And casting a look at the sorrowful scenes around us, Silas added movingly:

 

"Psychically, we are closer to evil and suffering . . . That is why we understand very easily the many, many afflictive problems here."

 

As we walked farther along, we more deeply entered the dense darkness, which grew thicker with each step, but was illuminated here and there by dim torches as if light there had to struggle dreadfully to nourish itself and survive.

 

Sobs and screams, cursing and blasphemies were coming from the darkness.

 

By looking back, we could see that the space occupied by the institution was rectangular in shape and that the terrain before us was located behind it, inhabited by a huge population outside its walls.

 

Perceiving our curiosity and interest, the Assistant began explaining:

 

"We are, in fact, in the region behind the institute.  It's a broad area overflowing with troubled, suffering spirits."

Hilario, who was no less surprised than I was, remarked frankly:

 

"But all these spirits seem to have been abandoned to the storm.  Shouldn't Mansao expand its embrace to help and defend them inside its walls?"

 

"Of course," replied Silas calmly, "that idea is most desirable; however, we are dealing with an enormous multitude of souls in readjustment.  This immense conglomerate of creatures without a body of flesh started out as a group of discarnate beings who clamored for help from Mansao but they did not possess the necessary prerequisites to receive it.  Firm in carrying out its program, our institute couldn't open its doors to them right away because they took pleasure in their state of desperation and revolt, but it didn't disregard the possibility of assisting them outside its walls.  That is how, contrary to what we had wanted, this abysm of suffering got started.  Thousands of spirits are gathered here haphazardly, victims of their own insane and gloomy thoughts.  When they finally overcome their state of trouble or anguish — which may last for days, months or years — they are brought to our institute, which, as much as possible, avoids opening itself to minds that are still completely entrenched in constant rebelliousness."

 

Maybe because we were silently recalling the scenes from the night before involving the discarnate spirits sheltered in the large asylum, our friend added:

 

"Yesterday, you witnessed the assistance rendered to an unfortunate brother abused in the darkness, and you also saw the arrival of sufferers just recently delivered from the flesh.  Among those who were benefited, you saw unconscious, indebted souls, but no evil and rebellious ones." 

 

In light of this remark, which, to a certain extent eased his restless mind, Hilario asked: 

 

"Can this environment, writhing in misfortune as it is, count on getting the help it needs?"

 

"Yes," said our friend.  "Many individuals who recovered at Mansao have accepted invaluable tasks of aid by offering fraternal assistance in vast areas of this tortured region.  After having recovered there, they bring back here the blessings they received, making themselves valuable liaisons.  Through them the administration of our institute assists thousands of needy minds and is certain which suffering brothers and sisters are worthy of entering the institute after their gradual transformation.  Scattered about in the fields of darkness in small domestic sanctuaries, they continue their own renewal here by learning and serving."

 

"Nevertheless," continued Hilario curiously, "doesn't such an unfortunate colony of maladjusted souls suffer the control of wicked Intelligences like the ones we saw yesterday on the other side of this place?"

 

"Yes.  Assaults like that are constant and unavoidable here, particularly regarding spirits who left bestialized accomplices behind in hellish lairs or in centers of terrestrial activities.  In those cases, the victims of such discarnate human beasts suffer long, unimaginable torment through hypnotic fascination — something that many spirits of evil know how to do very well."

 

After a short pause, Silas continued:

 

"Those are just some of the phenomena of comprehensible punishment that certain mystics observe during their out of the body experiences in the darkness, and which they classify as purifying torment.  To them, guilty souls after death experience horrible tortures by demons inhabiting the darkness."

 

The Assistant's explanation, added to the ceaseless moaning and lamentations we were hearing, caused an unpleasant feeling.

 

Maybe that is why Hilario, painfully touched by the cries around us, asked in wonder:

 

"Why did you say comprehensible punishment?"

 

And trying to get it off his chest:

 

"Do you think it is right for all these people to be grouped together in such desolation?"

 

Silas smiled sadly and said:

 

"I understand your concern.  Undoubtedly, so much suffering in one place would not be right if it were not the result of those who preferred injustice while in the world.  Isn't it right that we must all reap what we have sown?  On the same patch of fertile and neutral land, those who plant nettles will pick stinging nettles, and those who protect the garden will pick the fragrant flower.  The soil of life is the same for all of us.  On this huge stage of anguish, we never find simple and innocent souls but rather individuals who abused their intelligence and power, and who, willfully deaf to prudence, lost themselves in the abysms of madness and cruelty, selfishness and ingratitude, temporarily rendering themselves prey to the insane and monstrous mental creations they weaved for themselves.”

 

Our conversation ended suddenly in front of a small house half hidden in the fog, and from whose interior came comforting rays of light.

 

Large dogs that we could barely make out in the flickering light yelped strangely when they sensed our presence.

 

All of a sudden, a very tall, rugged-looking man appeared and greeted us from the small gate that separated us from the threshold of the house and invited us in.

 

Silas introduced him happily:

 

His name was Orzil, one of Mansao's guards working in the darkness.

 

A few minutes later, we were inside the warm shelter.

 

At the guard's command, two of the six dogs made themselves comfortable by lying down at our feet.

 

Orzil was huge; he looked like a bear in human form.

 

However, there was sincerity and devotion in the mirror of his clear eyes.

I got the perfect impression that he was a convict in the process of rehabilitation.

 

In the simple, cramped room there were rows of seats, and above them there was an oval-shaped hollow, in which there was a hand-made cross illuminated by an oil lamp in the form of a shell.

 

Orzil left to calm down the less-tame dogs in the back.  Meanwhile, the assistant informed us:

 

"Orzil is a friend with very little education who committed lamentable crimes in the world.  He suffered a lot at the hands of old adversaries, but after a long stay at Mansao, he has been rendering valuable help in this vast region inhabited by despair.  He is helped by helping.  By serving unselfishly and with fraternal devotion, not only does he reeducate himself, but he will also soften the playing field for the new life waiting for him in the physical realm due to the sympathies he has attracted on his behalf."

 

"Does he live alone?" I couldn’t help asking. 

 

"He dedicates himself to meditation and studies of a personal nature," Silas remarked patiently, "but as is the case with many other outposts, this one has a few cells occupied by spirits under treatment and waiting to be received by our institute."

 

Just then, Orzil came back and the assistant asked him kindly:

 

"How’s the work going?"

 

"There’s a lot of it, boss," he replied humbly.  "Yesterday’s storm brought immense devastation.  I think there must have been enormous suffering in the swamps."

 

Assuming that he was referring to the abysmal precipices where thousands of unfortunate, troubled souls struggled, Hilario asked: 

 

"Wouldn’t it be possible to reach such places to help those who are suffering?"

 

Our new friend grimaced with sadness and resignation and replied:

 

"No, it wouldn’t be."  As if coming to his friend's rescue, Silas added:

 

"Those who struggle in those caves are almost always extremely rebellious, and because of their insanity, they have become veritable demons of insensitivity.  They must become willing to opt for clear and peaceable conformity so that, even though they may still be half-conscious, they can profit from the help that is extended to their souls."

 

As if he wanted to demonstrate what he meant, he invited us to inspect the nearest cells.

 

"How many patients have you got today?"

 

Very respectfully, Orzil answered without hesitation:

 

"Three friends who are barely conscious."

 

After a few steps we heard loud screaming.

The accommodations reserved for the patients were in the back and looked like large, comfortable stables.  That is the best way to describe them, because, taken together, they conveyed an image of rusticity and security that naturally lent itself to the purposes of restriction of movement.

 

As we drew nearer, we were met with an unpleasant smell.

 

Answering our silent question, the Assistant explained:

 

"You're aware of the fact that all individuals are surrounded by an aura of vital energies that vibrate deep within them and that this aura consists of energy particles that radiate in all directions, striking our sense of smell pleasantly or unpleasantly, depending on the nature of the individual who radiates them.  Thus, just like what happens on earth, each spirit here is characterized by its own exhalation."

 

"Yes, yes . . ."  Hilario and I confirmed simultaneously.

 

Even so, the nauseating smell of rotting flesh at that moment was overwhelming.  

 

Silas noticed our surprise and addressed a questioning look at the one in charge of that merciful place of purgation.

 

He replied quickly:

 

"This is brother Corsino; his thoughts are still completely entwined with his body in the grave.  Surrounded with the memories of the excesses he committed while in the flesh, he hasn't been able to free himself from the memory of who he was, and so the image of his decaying corpse tops all of his memories."

 

Silas did not say anything more because we had suddenly reached the first cell, whose bars allowed us to see an aging man holding his head with his hands and clamoring:

 

"Call my sons!  Call my sons!"

 

"And this is our brother Veiga," said Orzil helpfully.  "His mind is fixated on the fortune he lost when he discarnated: a huge amount of gold and properties that subsequently became the property of his sons, three young men who are now competing for the largest and best slice of the inheritance, using corrupt judges and unconscionable shysters."

 

Leaning against the bars, Silas told us to pay special attention to the ambiance that was forming the man's psycho-sphere.

 

In fact, from my point of view I could see pictures that appeared and disappeared quickly like the ephemeral forms that silently appear from fireworks.

 

From these panels, which came alive and then went blank, emerged the images of three young men carrying a number of documents, bank notes and lock boxes full of valuable papers.  It was as if these images had been painted in the air with a very delicate paint that alternately thinned and thickened.

 

I understood that we were observing the thought forms created by the memories of our friend, who, of course, could do nothing for the time being but live out his inner drama, so strong was the mental fixation in which he was incarcerated.

As far as I could tell, evidently supported by the helpful vibrations that the Assistant was sending him, he rubbed his eyes as if he were trying to rid himself of an imperceptible mist, and then he saw us.  He leapt toward us, and holding onto the bars that separated us, he shouted like a madman:

 

"Who are you?  Judges?  Judges?"

 

And he started complaining pitifully:

 

"I fought for twenty-five years to recover the inheritance that my grandparents left me . . . and just when I had it in my hands, death mercilessly robbed me of my body . . . I didn’t resign myself to that sentence and remained in my old house . . . I at least wanted to watch how my fortune would be divided, but my sons cursed my influence and sent me poisoned and hostile words at every turn . . . Not satisfied with these mental assaults, they began to hound my second wife, who had always been their mother rather than their stepmother.  They gave her poison by means of her harmless medicine until the poor soul had to be committed to a nut house without any hope of recovery . . . All because of the money that my sons want to pillage . . . In light of such injustice, I decided to ask for help from the beings who inhabit the darkness, because only the spirits of evil can be the faithful executors of great revenge."

 

He tried to wipe away his tears of despair and added:

 

"Tell me! . . . Why did I nourish wretched thieves when I thought I was caressing the sons of my soul?  I got married very young, cherishing dreams of love, and wound up giving birth to thorn bushes of hate!"

 

When Silas asked him to calm down, the wretch shouted furiously:

 

"Never! . . . I will never forgive them! . . . I resorted to the spirits of hell because I knew that holy ones would advise conformity and sacrifice . . . I want the demons to torture my sons as much as they have tortured me!"

 

His weeping became shrieks of laughter, and he began shouting:

 

"My money!  My money!  I demand my money!"

 

The Assistant turned to Orzil and commented compassionately:

 

"Yes.  For the time being our friend's situation is too complicated.  He cannot leave his cell without harm."

 

We left the sick man shouting abuses at us with clenched fists and approached another cell.

 

Following Silas's suggestion to observe the scene, we saw another sickly spirit.  He was a profoundly sad man sitting at the back of the cell.  He was holding his head in his hands and was staring at the wall.

 

Following his attention to the spot where he was concentrating his visual rays, like an invisible mirror reflecting his thought, we saw a large, living screen picturing a moonlit street in a big city.  We saw the man behind the wheel of a car, chasing down a drunken pedestrian and then killing him without compassion.

 

We were looking at a murderer being held prey to compelling mental pictures that made him prisoner to punishing memories.

 

We could see his indescribable anguish, split between remorse and repentance.

 

At Silas's gentle call, he woke up like a wild beast roused from the calm of sleep.

 

Instinctively, he lunged at us in a spectacular leap, stopped only by the bars, and shouted:

 

"There are no witnesses . . . There are no witnesses! . . . I’m not the one who ran over that wretch even if I did have the right to hate him.  What are you going to do?  Accuse me?  Cowards!  Were you hiding on that deserted street?"

 

We didn't answer.

 

Silas looked at him compassionately and remarked:

 

"Let's leave him be.  He's completely ensnared by the crime he committed.  He thinks that even after death he can cheat justice."

 

Aghast, Hilario interrupted: "In that sick man, surrounded by his three sons and in this brother, who still contemplates a death scene, we have seen . . ."

 

Our friend Silas understood his thought and completed his remark:

 

"We have seen two miserable brothers living with the images they themselves are holding on to through the mental power with which they feed them."

 

Just then, we arrived at the third cubicle, where a man, covered with ugly sores was trying to squeeze the pus out of them using his nails.

 

The frankly pestilential atmosphere demanded enormous discipline to keep us from gagging.

 

Registering our presence, he stepped toward us clamoring bitterly:

 

"Have mercy on me!  Are you doctors?  Help me, for the love of God!  Look at the filth I'm lying on!"

 

I followed his look down to the floor and, sure enough, I saw that the wretch was moving around on a mound of filth streaked with rotten blood.

 

Only after I looked more closely did I realize that the repulsive picture was constructed from the wretch's mental emanations.

 

"Doctors!" he continued in a supplicant tone: "There are people who say I robbed others in order to satisfy my addiction to the brothel I used to visit . . . But that's a lie!  A lie! . . . I swear I lived at the brothel out of a spirit of charity . . . The unfortunate women needed someone to protect them . . . I helped them as much as I could . . . Even so, it was through them that I caught the disease that destroyed my body and which still makes my breath smell like hell! . . . Whoever you are, help me! . . . Help me, whoever you are!"

 

The repetition of his appeals sounded imperative, as if the simple petition were merely a disguise for an authoritarian command.

 

The assistant invited us to leave and explained:

 

"He is an old, inveterate idler who spent huge sums of money that weren't his on useless pleasures.  For a long time yet, his mind will waver between anger and disenchantment, thus feeding the disgusting atmosphere in which he's the imbalanced focal point."

 

On our way back to Orzil's den, I could't help but ask:

 

"So, our sick brothers will have to be kept segregated like that until they rehabilitate themselves?"

 

"That's right," said Silas kindly.  "And what do they have to do?" asked Hilario with insufferable amazement.

 

Our friend smiled and stated:

 

"The problem is of a mental nature.  If they modify their ideas, they will modify themselves."  He paused briefly, displayed more life in his penetrating look and added firmly:

 

"Nevertheless, that is easier said than done.  At the moment, you are specially dedicated to studying the principles of cause and effect, so you should know that our mental creations weigh fatalistically in our lives.  They free us when they are rooted in the good that synthesizes the divine laws, or they imprison us when grounded in the evil that expresses our irresponsible delinquency, thereby binding us to the subtle enticement of guilt.  An old aphorism says that 'The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.'  Moreover, we can say that even if the criminal does manage to avoid the crime scene, his thoughts are still attached to the atmosphere and the very substance of his crime."

 

And noticing our perplexity, he added:

 

"We must remember that thoughts act like waves that travel faster than light and that every mind is a dynamo generating creative force.  Now, if the good is the expansion of the light and evil is the condensation of the darkness, then when we lose ourselves in cruelty toward others, our thoughts, which are waves of subtle energy permeating places and people, situations and matters that affect our memory, act and react upon each other in a closed circuit, always bringing back to us the unpleasant feelings caused by our contact with our unfortunate deeds.  We just saw three types of souls who, in their last existence, left only sad, deplorable pictures that do not provide any mitigation of their debts.  The sons of our friend who is suffering from miserly fixation didn’t receive any resources of a worthwhile education from him that would enable them to help him when visited by their father's thoughts, which return to their point of origin loaded with their mental principles of hate and selfishness.  Our brother who is suffering from remorse because he was not punished by human justice in order to expiate the crime he deliberately perpetrated receives, in return, the thought waves he emits, without any help to mitigate his painful repentance.  Finally, our brother who is wallowing in filth reabsorbs the waves of his own mental field, waves which are full of deplorable aspects.  As he emits them, they return to him with increased elements of corruption."

 

In light of our amazement, the Assistant asked:

 

"Do you understand?"

 

Yes, we had . . .

 

Really excited, Hilario considered:

 

"Now I understand more clearly the concrete benefit of prayer and compassion, sympathy and help that we should offer sincerely to the so-called 'dead.'

 

"Yes, yes!" answered Silas.  "We are all connected to each other both in the flesh and out of it, and according to our deeds we are either free or imprisoned in the field of experience through the connections of our mental life.  The good is the light that frees us; evil is the darkness that imprisons us . . . Studying the laws of destiny, we must never forget such unavoidable, eternal realities."

 

We remained silent, concerned and thoughtful.

 

For that reason, our return to Mansao, after a short stop at Orzil's hut, was dedicated to meditation and silence with regard to the invaluable lessons we had received.

*

 

'Belphegor' as created in reference to the same description by AI search engine chatbots (from left) Google's Gemini, X's Grok and Microsoft Bing's Co-pilot (DALL·E 3).

 

Previous blog articles with descriptions of the ascended realm of Earth life include "'Mr. Johnson' Speaks from the Other Side", "Life and the Afterlife Explained from the Other Side", "The Life of 'Betty' in the Unobstructed Universe", "Living Beyond the Earth Plane — A Channeled Perspective" and  "Instrumental Transcommunication (ITC) Overview".