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It can certainly be a challenge, no question about that.  Different practitioners have different experiences and some are likely better adjusted than others.  And each psychic or out-of-body traveler has varying degrees of penetration of that non-physical realm.  Varying degrees of penetration and varying degrees of recall.  The penetration seems to depend on how much you think is there and how daring you are in your exploration.  The recall depends on how much you wish to be thrilled by the experience and how much you value your peace of mind as you go about your daily waking life.

Over the years I have come to value that peace of mind.  I see now, after years of what I might call high energy astonishment, that having both feet firmly and lovingly on the Earth whilst my head roams the clouds of the non-physical, is the balance that most efficiently feeds my loving service to humanty as it struggles through the mysteries of life and death.  Those mysteries which are shrouded and simplified by many barely serviceable belief systems birthed in antiquity and left to self-mummify in their cradles.

Of course, like any other choice, I pay a price for that peace of mind.  Functioning at ease in this world means shunting one’s activities elsewhere firmly aside until such time as their details are useful.  Each facilitator, however they label themselves, has their own area of expertise and ways of dealing with the dilemmas which arise from expanding into multi-dimensionality.  Some psychics will not penetrate the astral at all, preferring to stay here and let their guides and helpers bring spirits seeking communication or guidance to them.  Others prefer to project their consciousness, or more correctly, a portion of their consciousness, into whatever realm the souls they seek exist in at that moment.

Some of those souls, the lost, confused, ignorant and angry, will be in the lower astral, a murky unpleasant place cheek by jowl to the hell realms, a decayed suburb to their rotted ghetto.  Others will be in what can conveniently be described as the purgatorial realms, sort of half-way heavens that are more than reasonably pleasant comfort zones for those denying themselves the full monty out of unworthiness, cynical disbelief, narrow mindedness and that all-too-typical curmugeonly grumpiness underlying all class and race snobbishness.  Many more will be in the actual heavens of various cultures and religions, basking in the transcendent beauty and effortless vitality of their surroundings.  For example, although they will actually not have anything against French Catholics, American Protestants will still prefer their own company.  Ditto with Chinese Buddhists and Indian Hindus, etc. etc.  Those who have practiced ecumenical worship here will continue the practice there, and of course will encourage others who were on the verge to join them.  And let us not forget the more secular paradises where a joyful and often creative playfulness tinged with varying degrees of sensuality reigns.

In the upper paradises and heavens, where bodily and personality attachments are being shed, souls tend towards what I might call the translucent angel mode, wafting about etherially and edging ever closer to not being there at all, as they move toward that ground of all being, that radiant void, that realm of the unmanifest from which all experiment in form emerges.

Many psychics do not or will not traverse the realms at either end of this hastily described spectrum, fearing either psychic attack at the bottom end or complete dissolution at the upper.  These are, to be honest, quite real fears for partially evolved practitioners.  They are wise to abide by their own limitations.  One has to become some kind of spiritual warrior to successfully penetrate the lower realms, where cunning nastiness can and does rule, and one needs to overcome one’s attachment to good looks and charming personality to dissolve into a cloud of light floating in that unbounded sea of bliss.   At first one thinks, That’s it, I’m done for now, and panic can set in, but later one comes to understand that the transformation is a two way street, as easy to reverse as it was to initiate. The form may dissolve but the light of intelligence remains and can easily reassemble whatever vehicle is necessary.

All this to say that various practitioners have their comfort zones in which they prefer to operate.  Gordon here seems quite untroubled by choice of destination.  I’ll go where my intuition indicates the quarry may be found.  Often at speeds so dizzying I could not tell you how “I” got there.  The teleportation portals spoken of by government whistleblowers have nothing on the buddhic body I’ll tell you.

All of us, wherever we go or don’t go, live in two worlds with varying degrees of comfort.  On the plus side we all understand that life is eternal and that anxiety over the seeming pointlessness of mortality is an illusion.  That does not mean we fail to appreciate the sufferings of others, we just can’t help but see through it, as an adult knows the crying child will laugh in a few minutes.  And we all have to learn, in our individual ways, how to balance the two experiences: the seemingly boundless thrill of astral freedoms with the civilized constraints of physical plane society.  And for those of us who spend great quantities of “time” in our astral bodies, the undeniable gulf  between astral and physical plane consciousness.

What we know “there” is always more, much more, than we know “here”.  There is a constant bleed through of information from the wider to the narrower, – dreams, visions, intuitions, hunches and hints, but often the inner truth can remain hidden. until such time as you are ready to hear it.  I covered this mystifying process in detail in More Adventures In Eternity, where “Gordon” repeatedly discovered how much more he was than he suspected.  The gradual uncovering leads you to a place where no definition other than maybe focus of consciousness is appropriate.  That’s what you are, a focus of consciousness that takes on various forms to accomplish certain tasks, accepting the limitations that the various vehicles employed come with.

Very recently I had a vivid experience of that very thing.  An old friend had reappeared in my life, after a twenty year absense, without telling me he was being treated for a form of lymphoma, which I understand as a cancer of the blood.  The treatments had been going well, and I had no reason, visual or otherwise, to suspect anything was amiss as we sipped on our beers and discussed his career and house purchase plans.  When he disappeared from view and there was no answering emails I did wonder what was up, but just let the mystery ride as I got on with my own day to day affairs.

When his sister called to explain his sudden recent passing I was as shocked as any person not practicing mediumship.  I went through our meetings looking for clues, but didn’t find any.  He had not wanted me to know, despite me showing him, on one brief occasion, my afterlife books, published during the decades we had not seen each other.  And yet, when I attempted a spirit contact with him later that day and discovered him close by and quite ready to chat, I heard an entirely different story.  In my astral body at night, while that other Gordon slept his weariness away, I aided in his transition, showed him around and helped him acquire a pleasant little country cottage in rolling meadowland, in that inimitable bucolic bliss only the astral can provide.  He grinned as I explained how even someone like me can easily forget what he has done out there, now out here for him.  Though he was partially settled he was still having trouble coping with the magnetic pull of grieving from various family members and friends.  I commiserated and explained it would likely continue for some time yet, suggesting various methods of coping.

Coming back here, I thought over once again the vast gulf of understanding that separates our various vehicles and tried not to indulge in embarrassment, that condition I am so prone to, here in this incarnation, and likely others where I have tried and failed to master it.  And onwards we go, accumulating and learning, navigating the narratives we have earlier devised.