Lehal Library

impossible to convey to another the "reality" of this non-physical eternity. As stated by many in centuries past, it must be experienced. Most importantly, in many of the places visited, the inhabitants are "still" human. Different, in a changed environment, but still with human (understandable) attributes. On one visit, I ended up in a parklike surrounding, with carefully tended flowers, trees, and grass, much like a large mall with paths crisscrossing the area. There were benches along the paths, and there were hundreds of men and women Strolling by, or sitting on the benches. Some were quite calm, others a little apprehensive, and many had a dazed or shocked look of disorientation. They appeared uncertain, unknowing of what to do or what was to take place next. Somehow I knew that this was a meeting place, where newly arrived waited for friends or relatives. From this Place of Meeting, these friends would take each newcomer to the proper place where he or she "belonged." I could not think of any reason to stay longer—there was no one nearby I recognized— so I returned to the physical without incident. Another time I deliberately set out to explore in the hope of finding one answer to bring back. Upon disassociating into the Second Body, I started to move rapidly as I concentrated upon the thought, I wish to go where there are higher intelligences. I kept concentrating as I sped swiftly through a void that seemed endless. Finally, I stopped. I was in a narrow valley which seemed normal in all respects. There were men and women in ankle-length robes, dark in color. This time, I decided for some reason to take another tack. I approached several of the women, and asked them if they knew who I was. All were quite polite, and created me with great respect, but gave negative answers. I turned away, and asked the same question of a man in a monk's robe who seemed hauntingly familiar. "Yes, I know you," the man replied. There was a strong sense of understanding and friendship in his attitude. I asked him if I truly knew who I was myself. He looked at me as if he had met an old and dear friend who now had amnesia. "You will." He smiled gently as he said it. I asked him if he knew who I had been last. I was trying to get him to say my name. "You were last a monk in Coshocton, Pennsylvania," he replied.