In The Lower Zones - The Astral City

I was under the impression that I had lost all notion of time and space. I was convinced that I no longer belonged to the world of the living, yet I continued to inhale deep breaths of air.

Since when had I become the puppet of irresistible forces? I could not say. I felt like a prisoner, trapped in the dark cage of horror. With my hair on end, my heart thumping uncontrollably, a prey to terrible fear, many times I shouted like a raving lunatic. I begged for mercy and clamored against the bitter despondency which had take hold of my spirit. But my cries fell only on silence; or were answered by lamenting voices still more moving than my own. At other times, sinister roars of laughter rent the stillness, as if some

unknown companion must be close-by me, a prisoner of insanity. Diabolical forms, ghastly faces, bestial countenances crossed my way from time to time, increasing my panic. The scenery, when it was not pitch dark, was bathed in a lurid light, as if shrouded in a thick fog warmed by the sun’s rays.

Thus I proceeded on that strange journey. To what end? Who could say? I only knew that I kept fleeing. Fright drove me on blindly… Where were my home, my wife and children? I had lost all sense of direction. The fear of the unknown and my dread of darkness had annulled all my powers of reasoning from the very moment I had broken free of my physical body in the grave.

My conscience tormented me. I would have preferred the total absence of reason, or non-existence. Copious tears ran constantly down my cheeks, and only rarely was I blessed with a few minutes of sleep. What rest I had was often interrupted as monstrous beings awoke me and mocked me, and I was obliged to go on fleeing.

I saw now that I was on a different plane of life, which rose from the emanations of the Earth. But it was too late. Anguish weighed heavily on my mind, and when I started making plans for action, numerous incidents would

lead me on to bewildering avenues of thought. Never had the religious question loomed so large before my eyes. Principles, purely political, philosophical and scientific, now seemed to me of secondary importance to

human life. Although they were valuable acquisitions on Earth, I had to admit that mankind was not made of transitory generations, but of immortal Spirits on their ascension to a glorious destination. I was beginning to realize the existence of one thing that stands above all that is material or

intellectual: Faith a divine manifestation to man. Such an analysis, however, came too late. It is true that I was familiar with the Old Testament and had often read through the Gospels. But I was forced to recognize that I

had never searched the sacred writings with the light of my heart. I had embraced the interpretation of writers who were not inclined to sentiments and conscience, an who were, at times, even in open disagreement with the

fundamental truths. On other occasions, I had taken an ecclesiastical point of view, entering voluntarily into a circle of contradictions.

In truth, I did not believe that I was a criminal in my life, though my philosophy of living for the immediate present had absorbed me fully. My earthly life, now transformed by death, had been no different from the life of so many others.

Born of perhaps excessively generous parents, I had graduated from the University without much effort, and shared the dissipation and vices of the youth of my time. Later, when I married and started a family, I was blessed with children, gained a stable and lucrative position, and was spared all financial worries. Yet on self-examination I feel deeply that I had wasted time and I now hear the silent pangs of my conscience. I had lived on Earth, enjoyed its benefits, reaped the good things of life, and yet never contributed anything towards the repayment of my heavy debt. I had completely ignored my parent’s generosity and sacrifices, just as I had ignored those of my wife and children. I had selfishly kept my family only to myself. I had been given a happy home, and had closed my doors to those seeking help. I had delighted in the joys of my family circle, yet never shared that precious gift with my greater human family. I had neglected to undertake even the most elementary duties of fraternal solidarity.

Now that my life was over I was like a hothouse plant, unable to withstand the weather of eternal realities. I had not cultivated the divine seeds the Father of Life had sown in my soul. They were choked by the weeds of my insatiable desire for comfort and enjoyment. I had not trained my faculties for this new life. It was only right, then, that I should enter it like a cripple, thrown into the infinite river of eternity, unable to swim, or like a

wretched beggar at the end of his strength, wandering about in the middle of

a stormy desert.

Oh, dear friends on Earth! How many of you may still avoid the bitter road of sorrow by cultivating the inner fields of your heart. Light up your lamp before crossing the threshold of the shadows. Search for Truth, lest the truth find you unprepared. Sweat and toil now, lest you weep afterwards.

Reviewed by Márcio Varela

From the book The Astral City "Nosso Lar" - Chapter 1 - In The Lower Zones