THE PATTERN WORLD
THERE is something I want to qualify in
what I said the other day, that there is nothing out here which has not existed
on the earth. Since then I have learned that that statement is not exactly true.
There are strata here. This I have learned recently. I still believe that in the
lowest stratum next the earth all or nearly all that exists has existed on earth
in dense matter. Go a little farther up, a littler farther away—how far I
cannot say by actual measurement; but the other night in exploring I got into
the world of patterns, the paradigms—if that is the word—of things which are
to be on earth. I saw forms of things which, so far as I know, have not
existed on your planet–inventions, for example. I saw wings that man could
adjust to himself. I saw also new forms of flying-machines. I saw model cities,
and towers with strange wing-like projections on them, of which I could not
imagine the use. The progress of mechanical invention is evidently only begun.
Another time I will go on, farther up in that world of
pattern forms, and see if I can learn what lies beyond it.
Bear this in mind: I merely tell you stories, as an earthly
traveller would tell, of the things I see. Sometimes my interpretation of them
may be wrong.
When I was in the place which we will call the pattern world,
I saw almost nobody there—only an occasional lone voyager like myself. I
naturally infer from this that but few of those who leave the earth go up there
at all. I think from what I have seen, and from conversations I have had with
men and women souls, that most of them do not get very far from the earth, even
It is strange, but many persons seem to be in the regular
orthodox heaven, singing in white robes, with crowns on their heads and with
harps in their hands. There is a region which outsiders call "the heaven
There is also, they tell me, a fiery hell, with at least the
smell of brimstone; but so far I have not been there. Some day when I feel
strong I will look in, and if it is not too depressing I will go farther—if they
will let me.
For the present I am looking about here and there, and I
have not studied carefully any place as yet.
I took the boy, whose name by the way is Lionel, out with me
yesterday. Perhaps we ought to say last night, for your day is our night when we
are on your side of this great hollow sphere. You and the solid earth are in the
centre of our sphere.
I took the boy out with me for what you would call a walk.
First we went to the old quarter of Paris, where I used to
live in a former life; but Lionel could not see anything, and when I pointed out
certain buildings to him he asked me quite sincerely if I were dreaming. I must
have some faculty which is not generally developed among my fellow citizens in
the astral country. So when the boy found that Paris was only a figment of my
imagination—he used to live in Boston—I took him to see heaven. He remarked:
"Why, this must be the place my grandmother used to tell me
about. But where is God?"
That I could not tell him; but, on looking again, we saw
that nearly everybody was gazing in one direction. We also gazed with the
others, and saw a great light, like a sun, only it was softer and less dazzling
than the material sun.
"That," I said to the boy, "is what they see who see God."
And now I have something strange to tell you; for, as we
gazed at that light, slowly there took form between us and it the figure which
we are accustomed to see represented as that of the Christ. He smiled at the
people and stretched out His hands to them.
Then the scene changed, and He had on His left arm a lamb;
and then again He stood as if transfigured upon a mountain; then He spoke and
taught them. We could hear His voice. And then He vanished from our sight.