IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN SAID that to every story

there is a beginning, a middle and an end. But how, and

where, does one begin a story that has neither beginning nor

end, and no middle, a story that is endless, timeless? All that

can be said of it is that it is.

My name is John and it has been my pleasure, since

moving into the world in which I now live, to visit from time

to time amongst my friends still upon the Earth, to speak, to

comfort, to discuss with them so many things. And now the

time has come to talk to a much wider circle of friends.

You ask, 'What manner of person is this?' and 'Where

does he come from?' All people ask these questions. I know.

When I lived upon the Earth, I too wondered what lay beyond.

Was there something 'out there'? What was 'reality' and what

was 'fantasy'? Where did the one begin and the other end?

Most people experience uncertainty and doubt no matter what

they may have seen or heard. It is a portion of the price of free

will - freedom of thought and freedom of action - and, during

the process of individual thinking, one can so easily lose the

way because there is only self, one small mind.

All the great teachers, throughout the ages, have told us:

'Love one another,' is the first lesson; 'I and my Father are

one,' is the second. And, if every man is truly your brother, then your mind cannot be entirely alone.

These are fine words, platitudes you may think, and to

many quite meaningless because they have never delved deeply

into the well of life.

I was such a one. I wondered and pondered but did not

know. Then, one day I found out that there was not only a

'life hereafter' but continuous life - a life that will never cease,

a life that goes on forever. . .

IT WAS DURING the Second World War, south of Imphal.

The Japanese were advancing. The town was under heavy

attack and, some miles away, we stood athwart the enemy line

of advance. It was a very short, sharp engagement. I went

ahead to my so-called forward platoon consisting of about a

section-and-a-half - some fourteen men (all who had survived).

As I spoke with the sergeant in command, the Japanese

launched their attack with a mortar barrage and I was caught

in the open.

It was all over very quickly. I lay on the ground. The

sounds of battle had died away. It had moved on. I wondered

how long I had been Iying unconscious and then, as I lay there,

I realised that it wouldn't be long before the Japs arrived.

Wounded as I was they would make pretty short work of me.

It wasn't a pleasant thought but it led my mind away from the

immediate prospect of death to the memory of a little pamphlet

which I had read somewhere, one put out by an organisation

in Britain. Funnily enough, it had stuck in my mind. It was

headed, 'What to do in case of Sudden Death,' and had been

published by a group of Spiritualists. I remember I had been

mildly amused by it at the time: now I wished I had read it.

Maybe there was something in it after all.

Then I looked up. A Jap was standing there watching me,

looking down at me, and I remembered thinking, "This is it.

Here it comes." But nothing happened. I looked up into

quizzical eyes. Those eyes were laughing, yet not maliciously.

"What are you doing lying there?" he said in English.

"That's a ridiculous question," I replied.

"Is it ?"

"Yes. I can't move and I can't feel much. I think my spine

is smashed."

"Try moving a leg. Go on, try."

There was something about this situation that I couldn't

put my finger on. Here was a Jap, an enemy, in the midst of a

field of battle telling me to move a leg, and me with a hole in my

back that seemed large enough, in my imagination, to put a

couple of fists through. But there was something reassuring

about him, in what he said and the way he said it. So I tried. My

leg moved. No pain

"Now try the other one," he said.

It moved. Again no pain.

"Now try standing up."

Well, this was quite shattering, but I tried, and I stood up !

I can't describe that feeling Having lain there in fear and

terror - then suddenly to stand up and feel totally whole and

well. It was incredible.

"What's happened?", I asked hesitantly.

He smiled again and raised an eyebrow. "You really

should have read that pamphlet, you know. It would have

helped you immeasurably."

You mean . . . you mean I've had it?"

"Yes," he said, "you've had it. And I've had it. Not only

have you had it, but you've had the war too. That lies behind

you even as your body lies behind you now."

I looked back. Another shock. On the ground behind me

lay my shrapnel-shattered body.

"But when . . . when did I die? Was it the moment I saw

you?"

"Die?" he said. "You didn't die, you merely laid aside

a body which was of no further use to you. Nobody dies. A

body becomes useless and is cast aside like an old suit of clothes.Yes, sometimes cast aside lovingly if it has served well;

at other times regretfully because it has served too well; and at

other times lightly because one has suffered too much. But

no, I know what you mean. The moment you cease to live

within the confines of that body, the moment the body ceases

to be your suit of clothes, at that moment you die." Then he

said, "Do you remember that there was much pain, that the

barrage continued and then the battle passed over you?"

"Yes."

"And there was a moment of unconsciousness? A brief

moment? Then you opened your eyes again. The sounds of

battle had faded away. Had moved on, you thought. But it

was not the battle that had moved on, for it still rages. It was

you who had moved on and away from it. I have been standing

here waiting for you to realise that something was different,

waiting until it was time to come forward and speak to you.

When the realisation came to you that something had happened

- that death, if it wasn't already there was not far off - then

was the time for me to speak with you. But you had already

passed out of one world into another, and it is because of this

that I came to be here with you."

In all the time in which I have been engaged upon my

own particular task - that of meeting newcomers from the

battlefields of the world - nothing has ever been quite as

wonderful to me as my own arrival.

taken from Book >> Road of Many Ways >> Unknown author John, Bennu Publisher South Africa 1975.