life after life, life after death, automatic
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metaphysics, automatic writing, spirituality
Last Letters From The Living Dead Man
February 8, 1917.
Did I not tell you many months ago that the
soul of Abraham Lincoln kept watch above this land that he died to save from
disruption, and that he would keep vigil until America should have passed
through her next great trial? You questioned then what that trial would be.
Do you question now? And yet you do not know.
Slowly the months have gone by, receding into the past. You saw
in vision the German Emperor in spiked helmet standing opposite to Uncle Sam
in his shirt-sleeves, did you not suppose that it would come to this? You
are wise to keep such visions to yourself.
Do not fancy that this war will end without
greater changes than the world has ever known before. When I told you nearly
two years ago that the battle between the powers of good and evil had been
won in the invisible regions, I knew because my Teacher told me so; but do
not believe that the new age can dawn without greater trouble and greater
changes than you can now imagine. Birth is change and birth is painful, and
birth is bloody and exhausting. The pains that have gone before are only the
pains of labor.
The stars in their courses fight for the new race.
I have written of the bloody fields of
Europe. Now I would write of America and her future, her near and her far
future; for the sun is approaching the Eastern horizon and the dawn clouds
are already tinged with the coming day.
America, do not despair! Your destiny is assured. In the storms
to come, think of the freshness after the storm, when the ground shall smell
sweet and birds shall sing. For the birds will sing to the children of the
In the midst of changes there will come a lull. The world will
say, “It is over, the old things will return, and all will be as before.”
But nothing will ever be exactly as it was before. In the lull you shall
draw breath, and make ready for other changes. Yes, many things will be
changed, even the hearts of men.
The world has known terror. Without
experience of terror, without the poise that comes from the facing of terror
undaunted, the world could not face the future without failure. Is there
anything now, after thirty months of war, that could surprise the world? Is
there anything that the world could not face?
Oh, remember that you are immortal, and that you who go out of
life will come back again, strengthened by the rest in the invisible! For a
change of place is a rest of consciousness. To those whose nerves are weary,
wise doctors prescribe a change. A rest in the invisible worlds is more
refreshing than a summer in the mountains. Do not fear death. I passed
through death, and I am more rested now than a strong man in the morning. I
would not go back to my old body. When I want a body again I shall build a
new one. I know the process of building, having built so many before.
Be joyous with me. A wise man once said
that only the unendurable is tragic. The world, and the souls of the world,
can endure the change that is coming. Have not wars prepared them for it?
That is why wars had to be.
America is rich. Her vaults are full of gold, her mines are full
of ore, and her fresh soil is full of richness. Shall she fear a future in
which labor can procure all things for the body, and faith can procure all
things for the soul? The history of this land is a history of faith. Did not
Columbus start across the trackless ocean, led only by the star of his
faith? Did not your ancestors follow, led by their faith in the future? The
past has gone back to God, it is safe as a dead man; but the future is
coming to you, and your faith shall make it sure.
Fear naught. In the early days of this land
your forefathers slept in quiet, though the red man lurked in the forest,
and hunger lurked in the failure of harvests, and men and children could
only be winter-warm when trees had been felled for fuel. Now you fear
famines of coal? The earth is heavy with coal. You fear famines of wheat,
when your muscles grow fat for lack of exercise. They who came first to this
land had varied reasons for fear, but you have no reasons for fear. Labor is
sweet. The child who makes labor of play can vouch for the truth of that
saying. Can you not then make play of your labor? When I was a child I built
houses of blocks. I longed to be building. I dug ditches in the garden. I
made boats of chips and sailed them on a puddle. I planted seeds.
And learning? In the libraries of the world
and in the brains of men is stored the learning of the ages. The new age
will not lack the archives of all ages. Though paper is less enduring than
parchment, it will last over into the new age. Fear not.
By hints I convey to your mind that many changes will come. What
then? All progress is change. Go out with it to meet the future, with a
smile on your face and a song on your lips. The future wears a rose in its
buttonhole, as your Vagrom Angel would say.