MICHAEL WALSH. ‘You are not going on your own, nor will you be on your own. You are and always will be in just the other room.

‘We will follow you. We will join you after our fleeting mortality, which is only a passing thing for a purpose; that is all.

You are not the first to return to the in-between life, and you will not be the last.

‘Here or there is an irrelevancy. We remain together as a link, the link that you made in a chain that mortality cannot break.  

‘The mortal loss is temporary, togetherness is eternal. There is no such thing as finality, only transformation, which is to be welcomed as without it we cannot experience immortality.’

Love of one’s folk

Love of one’s folk is not a museum piece; it is a living sensation. Cultural roots are an evocation of the past, it is a memory of the present, a reminder of the future.

Folk is sensuality; it is a love affair with your own kind that knows no death, a romance that experiences transformation and telepathic reincarnation.

Death is nothing at all

Anonymous. ‘Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.

Call me by the old familiar name. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name forever be the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity.

What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.’~ Anonymous.

Reincarnation: ‘He saw all these forms and faces in a thousand relationships become newly born. Each one was mortal, a passionate, painful example of all that is transitory. Yet none of them died, they only changed, were always reborn, continually had a new face: only time stood between one face and another.’ ~ German-Swiss Poet Herman Hesse 1877-1962.  Let readers know what you think.

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