Voice Transmissions With The Deceased
by Friedrich Juergenson
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95 CHAPTER 21
Springtime filled with work – A death announcement and a greeting by the deceased from the beyond – Joyful certainty: there is no death
The days in Nysund near Moelnbo followed one another filled with intensive work. I had the feeling of being outside of time. Hours passed like minutes, time started to telescope for me. I saw the spring pass rapidly by my window. Every morning I awoke surrounded by birdsong and the freshness of spring. A wonderful fragrance of young birch leaves, of dewy grass and pine needles and of ozone wafted in from the lake. Blue anemones still covered the forest slope; they grew in thick bushes and were succeeded by their white sisters. They only opened their sleepy blossoms after the early sunrays had warmed the morning air.
Monika and my friend Hugo visited us in Nysund over the weekend. We had lots to tell one another. Hugo, by the way, was the former Secretary General of the Swedish Theosophical Society, friend of Krishnamurti and a lawyer by profession.
On April 30th, I received a printed death announcement from the family of Felix Kersten. I regarded this black-bordered death notice with mixed emotions. Unfortunately we know them only too well, these macabre stereotypical mourning phrases. Actually, the tears and the pain of separation are senseless because the view of death held by most people is erroneous or based on lies. Death is not what most people hold it to be.
96 I had to think of Felix the entire morning. I didn’t yet know the illness that caused his death; I could only hope that he did not suffer during his last hours.
It was around 11:30 when I put in a new tape and connected the recorder to the radio. Right at the start I heard the voice of my otherworldly ‘radio assistant’, and I immediately put the tape recorder into the ‘record’ mode to capture the transmission so as to be able to examine it carefully and to listen to it later on at my leisure. There were atmospheric disturbances and I could understand only a few words, but I let the tape run on anyway. The original recording was as follows: “Kersten…Kersten.. here (is) Kersten…”
A female voice: “be careful!” and then a male voice: “We will visit Peter (or later)…probably…listen…heart - quick! Dear Friedel, best haelsnigar, here is Felix Kersten…we are coming…Stockholm …contact…Felix Kersten – there is a poof!”
Even though the voice sounded a little unclear at the beginning, Felix undeniably spoke the last few words. I could clearly detect not only his special intonation, but also his Baltic accent.
Should I connect his hint: “heart – quick” and “there is a poof!” to a heart attack? As I found out later, Felix died as the result of an embolism (arterial blockage).
At the first moment I was absolutely overwhelmed and deeply moved at the same time – my dear friend Felix Kersten had sent me greetings from ”over there”!
When I regained my composure somewhat I slowly began to take in the significance of what I had just experienced.
Felix spoke cheerfully, quickly and energetically. I had the impression that he was in a hurry.
97 What I found strange was the fact that he used an English word (quick) and a Swedish word (haelsnigar – regards) although we always used to speak German to one another. But I was too happily excited to give this much thought at the time. One thing I already understood clearly and distinctly, namely that if death shows us its true character in this fashion, one would have to regard our worldly existence in an entirely new light. If you really reflect (on what happened) a true miracle had occurred here: a dead person had spoken to me in a technical/physical fashion demonstrable and repeatable at any time.
Here was a person who died two weeks ago in the hospital. An embolism, the nightmare of harried humanity in this day and age had burst his heart vessels. His dead body had been cremated; a small pile of ashes was all that was left of him.
No one has succeeded until now to find a medicine against death. Of what help are the consolations of church and all the wise sayings of the Holy Scriptures, what solace can they give if in fact all that is left of a living human being is a small pile of gray ash? Ignorant humanity stands before an invisible abyss, before a cruel emptiness from which no one has as yet returned, as the popular saying goes, a heart filled with terror, grief and fear.
And now a dead person speaks on tape to his friend! Someone who disappeared into the “Great Nothingness” speaks clearly with his old, dear voice clearly and always repeatable on a tape – in spite of infarct, cremation and that small pile of ashes, the presence of which is also undeniable.
This realization filled my entire being with boundless, exuberant joy. 98 It seemed to me that I had turned suddenly once again into a little boy whose carefree lightheartedness knew no bounds. I don’t remember any more how long this joyful intoxication lasted based on the unshakable certainty that this simple, brownish tape carried the voice of immortality undeniable by any worldly authority.
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