Even though today is dank and dreary, I’ll still do my daily hike through the forests and hills that surround my little house – as good a place as any for hiding from policemen. As I’ve said in previous postings, I do these hikes to stay in shape, so to delay to the utmost the moment when I must Cross Over.
How will it be when I Cross Over? I ask myself this well-nigh every day, since, at 118, I can expect to Cross Over at any time. Will I continue in another form, or will I simply no longer be, and will therefore go back to how it was before I was born?
There was a man, a quite well-known journalist, who was on the Titanic when it sank in 1912 – an event I still remember reading about in the newspapers, and listening while my Mater and Pater and the other grownups excitedly talked about it. Anyway, no more was ever seen of this man, this journalist, so he must have drowned. However, a spiritualist in London some years after, began getting telepathic messages from this drowned man, that told of his life after he drowned.
This man, after he plunged into the cold inky waters of the Atlantic, suddenly felt like he was whooshing swiftly upwards. He found himself in a very pleasant place, a land enveloped in a faint bluish haze. He appropriately called it The Blue Island. There, he met again his dead father and other dead men he had known when he was still bodily alive.
All in all, this drowned man when he sent his telepathic messages, was loving it on the Blue Island, and wished not ever to go back to Earth, even though he had had a good life. I’ll not speak more of this drowned man’s life on the Blue Island, for, if you’re interested, you can read about it elsewhere on the Internet. And if you do, you’ll see that the Blue Island is the sort of place you’ll be happy to go to after you yourself finally breathe your last.
Where I now live, on the Pacific Rain Coast, I often find myself during my daily forest hikes, high up on mountainsides where I can look down on the world far below, which is usually beneath a bluish haze, much as described in The Blue Island of the drowned Titanic passenger.
So, should I myself go to the Blue Island when I Cross Over, I may find things there not much different to how I find things now, except I’ll not likely have policemen looking for me, for, if the drowned Titanic passenger is to be believed, the Blue Island is so peaceful, it wouldn’t need policemen.