Beyond DeathBeyond DeathBeyond Death refutes the idea that death is the end of life. From scientific, mathematical, and spiritual points of view, this books provides support for the continuance of life beyond death and for the Divine Mind that designed the delicate balance of transcendent elements from which all life is formed.
Additionally, Christopher Scott takes the reader to a "spiritual magnet" known as the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California. He provides cogent evidence that the House is actually a repository of universal secrets and esoteric knowledge. The author further solves the mystery of Sarah Winchester's hidden numerology and Hyperdimensional Spirituality incorporated in the amazing anomalies prominently displayed throughout the House.
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Table of Contents |
Preface
Acknowledgments
Introduction
PART ONE: ANGELS: BEINGS OF LIGHT
1. The Awakening
2. The Revelation
3. The Dynamics of Angels
4. Do Angels Have Wings?
5. Can Angels Assume Human Form?
PART TWO: UNRAVELING THE MYSTERY
6. The Hyperdimension: The Other Side of Existence
7. Existence Really Is Mind Over Matter
8. Hyperdimensional Symmetry
9. The Anthropic Principle
10. The Dreamgate: Window to the Hyperdimension
11. Prophetic Dreaming
12. The Kirlian Effect: Traces of the Nonorganic Life Force
13. Out-of-Body Experience (OBE) and Astral Projection
14. Near-Death Experience
PART THREE: COMMUNICATING WITH THE DECEASED
15. Transitional Lessons
16. Bridging the Gap
17. Reaping What We Sow
18. Forgiveness
19. Lost Souls
PART FOUR: SYNTHESIS
20. The House of Spirits
21. The Bigger Picture
Glossary
Bibliography
Index
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Excerpt |
THE AWAKENING
I am frequently asked how early in my life did I begin to notice the presence of angels, and when did I first become aware that they were communicating psychic insights to me. I can only say that, as far back as I can remember, angels have always been my constant companions.
As a child I merely assumed that everyone enjoyed the same special relationship with these magnificent beings of light that I had come to know. They would come to me in my dreams - always silent, warm, and assuring. They did not speak, but rather communicated with me telepathically in a symbolic-intuitive language that is perfect, clear, and precise. They would instantly whisk me off to a beautiful and different place. I used to call it, "The Place of Mirrors and Light" - it was my favorite place in the whole world (later in life I would come to realize that this was not a place at all, but, rather it is a dimension).
Every night I looked forward to my rendezvous with my angelic guides. There were always so many questions on my mind; however, I took great delight in the fact that the angels always knew what I was thinking, in fact, they always seemed to know my thoughts before I did. The beauty of this process was that, instead of teaching me through lessons and instruction, my angel guides incessantly filled my heart and mind with insight and inspiration.
By the time I had reached my sixth birthday, my intuitive exercises with my angel guides had become well developed. As a result, my insights became more heightened. I began to understand things about people in ways that defied any rational explanation. Sometimes this would get me into trouble. For example, my sister kept a daily diary which she always locked away in her desk drawer. Much to her chagrin, I would often recite to her, word for word, various passages, which she had secretly written in the little black book.
My mother knew about my special gift, and she wisely admonished me to be careful how I used it. How right she was! I had much to learn, and my journey into such matters had only just begun.
One fateful summer day, as I strolled to the neighborhood bus stop, I passed by an elderly gentleman sitting on a park bench. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head.
The voice called out my name: "Christopher!"
It was the kind of telepathic voice I was accustomed to hearing in The Place of Mirrors and Light.
Once again it called out, "Christopher!"
I turned to the elderly man seated on the bench. He had white, thinning hair and a rather seraphic complexion reminiscent of Santa Claus. Until that moment my encounters with angels had always been in the realm of The Place of Mirrors and Light.
I asked him who he was.
"You may call me Hobbs," was his reply.
I began fumbling for words, but he instantly read my thoughts.
"Ah, yes, you're wondering about my human appearance ... blends in pretty good with the rest of the scenery, don't you think?"
As I stood in a dazed silence, Hobbs continued, "You're about to get on that bus over there to go to a swimming party."
"Yes," I replied. "I'm going to meet up with my friends."
Hobbs' gentle eyes grew somber. He said, "Christopher, if you choose to get on that bus, you will meet with disaster."
I looked over at the bus, attempting to ascertain the problem. When I looked back at the bench, Hobbs was nowhere to be seen ... but I sensed he was not gone.
I took Hobbs' warning to heart. Without question, I knew, intuitively, that he was dead right. Later, that afternoon, I learned that the bus had been in a tragic accident. Hobbs, it turned out, was, and still is, my guardian angel.
The next few years of my life were complicated and confusing. In the innocence of my early years all that I had come to know of the world was the product of feeling. Attending public school was changing that. In the classroom the intuitions which I relied on and trusted were being invalidated by my teachers. Being "taught" to think seemed to me a natural contradiction of terms. This alien process of stripping feeling from thought was cloudy indeed.
Gradually, I felt myself slipping away from my angel guides, and they from me. Angels are attracted to quiet intuition and are repelled by noisy didacticism.
Blue Dolphin Publishing, 2001