Still Small Voice Within
“Again we come with our love from the planet Venus. I believe we were discussing the topic of self-conclusion and we had been in the ward where you saw a few of those in the suspended state awaiting a new opportunity. So while we are still on this subject of nursing, let us go into another section where we can examine another type of self-destruction which is a form of partial spiritual suicide. We will re-enter the long corridor and pass over into the large doorway you see just before you; and while we are about to enter, may I say that you are quite likely to be reminded of some large hospital back on your earth-plane. There are, of course, no operating rooms where the physical bodies are dismembered and torn apart. Instead, we use our mind forces in directing radiant healing energies; but see, you are in the ward. I see you are very much amazed at the size and large numbers of what look somewhat like the familiar hospital beds in an earth hospital. But come, let us step closer to one of the nearby beds. Before you is a woman whom we shall call Susan. She passed from the earth life but a few weeks ago, and as you see, you would think her more dead then alive. In contrast to the pure psychic bodies of the suicides, the people in these many hundreds of beds have all retained the semblance of their physical form. This is because in their passing, which was quite normal in most cases, they have retained in a somewhat shell-like fashion the hard thought-form energies, the word “hard” being a relative term. Looking at Susan more closely, you will see she is apparently without life. Of course, she does not breathe because she needs no air in her astral form. You will notice also the grayish pallor-like color which makes her appear as if she were almost carved from stone. On earth Susan was what you might call an ordinary sophisticated, worldly woman. She had a business career; she smoked and attended cocktail parties and did numerous other things which are associated with the life one might normally find in a large city.
She did not have time, however, for periods of meditation. And if she attended church, it was only on special occasions such as at Easter time where she might show off some new finery; and while in church on those occasions, she was not listening to the words of inspiration nor were her eyes used other than in peering about the church to see what the other females were wearing. So the day came for Susan when she must leave her familiar earth life and the liveried chauffeurs and penthouses, furs and jewelry. While she did not willingly do so, her hour struck and she was forced to leave her body behind. Perhaps it was one of the physical conditions like cancer which caused Susan to leave her body; but whatever the cause, one thing is sure: Susan was not ready for her journey into a new world, a world which was entirely unfamiliar and strange, a world in which none of her earth things seemed to give her security and comfort. While there is nothing wrong perhaps with the way Susan lived on the earth, except that she devoted too much of her time and concentrated too much of her attention on the superfluous and often unnecessary appurtenances of a highly exploited way of life, because she devoted so much of her time and concentrated so much of her energies into the acquisition of those superfluities, there was no time left to prepare for the future.
When a small green caterpillar crawls under a leaf and spins himself into a cocoon, it is because the small still voice tells him to do so, and during the long winter months, he will hang in a suspended state until the warm rays of the spring sunshine; then he will burst aside his little prison and will emerge a full-fledged, beautiful butterfly. Like caterpillars and all other creeping, flying, crawling things on your earth-plane, Susan too had a small, still voice but perhaps she loved more the sound of ice tinkling in a champagne glass, or perhaps the rustle of a new silk dress was much more musical in her ears; and so her time came and she was not prepared.
Do you see the little lady coming down the corridor? She is Susan’s mother. She has been coming here daily since her daughter was brought here. Susan’s mother lived in another age. She was brought up on a farm. She was taught honest toil and the way of life of her kinfolk. But no matter how many cows had to be milked, or chickens fed, or bread to be baked, Susan’s mother always found time to steal away in some corner with the family Bible and there, in her quiet moments of meditation, she heard the whisper of the still small voice. And so when her hour struck, she did not come into her new world unprepared. She did not arrive in a helpless, inert state, more dead than alive; instead, she arose from her mortal flesh to her loved ones. She is living there now in a place some of the earth folks call summerland. As for Susan, it may be several months before she can hear the sound of her mother’s voice. Perhaps she will be awakened by the soft touch of her mother’s tears upon her face. Meanwhile, we here who attend her and others like her, daily and hourly project into her consciousness the ray of healing and love. We send her strength and wisdom; and while she is being healed, she is being taught the consciousness of her new world. She is being shown within her mind the beauty of the world which she almost lost.
Yes, we can walk up and down these aisles and look into the faces of countless hundreds which are like Susan. Perhaps it was not the rustle of a new dress which drowned out the small voice. It could have been an alcoholic stupor or a thousand other things with loud voices which are always shouting in your earth world.
And so, my brothers and sisters who are walking the many pathways of life, in whatever you are doing in those pathways, pause for several moments every hour and listen for the small, still voice. Perhaps it has been a long time since you heard it last and perhaps it will take many efforts before you will hear it again; but it is there nevertheless. It always has been, ever since you were created and it always will be, for the small voice is the God within you.
No, we do not use knives or instruments upon those who are brought here; only the radiant energy of God’s pure love is used to fill the vacant places in their minds and hearts which were left unfilled in their earth lives.
These great hospitals, if you can call them such on Venus, have witnessed the scenes of many happy reunions of those who have awakened to the light of their new day and found the waiting arms of their loved ones. Yes, there are those, fortunately but a few, who do not awaken, nor will they; for in spite of all the love rays that we send them, they have in their blindness, refused all aid. And so they must wander in the sub-astral blackness of their own minds until the day comes when they shall desire to be freed. And then they shall pray to their God and He will send them a shaft of light; and like the tiny cocoon, they will burst the bonds of their prison for it is one of their own making and thus they will emerge into the warm rays of a new found sun, on a warm day in a new springtime; and with their new wings, they will float grandly off into the beauty of the spiritual world about them.” – Mal Var.
Excerpt from The Voice of Venus
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