Pure Heaven

Quite a departure here from my usual non-fiction but with themes that are familiar to this blog. This was written somewhat 'outside myself' without too much thought, so the meaning of it is not entirely clear to me...

'My final night on this earth was a Thursday, an innocuous day except for its proximity to Friday and the blessed weekend. On this Thursday evening, I went for drinks with a few work colleagues to 'celebrate' the leaving for pastures new of one of the company's hotshots, who evidently had his real friends to entertain at the weekend. This was a small company, a 'feeder', which groomed creative and talented people before bowing to their inevitable departure to a place which materially gave them more of what they wished for. Our manager Mr Stever was in the Sam Phillips of Sun Records mould, and a few Elvises had come and gone while he'd been in charge. He was a man I respected, and in an alternative to this story, I could be writing about the time when my life finally took shape and I found my home. In fact, I did like this job because it was relaxed and allowed me to take home reasonable money without taxing my energy levels, and it also allowed me to simply exist while I allowed my fatalistic tendencies to dictate. I was not a happy person, and this was compounded by the fact that I had no material reason why not. In the eyes of society, I had had a normal upbringing with no trauma, and there's no doubt that I had loving parents. This only made the situation worse though, as I just indicated. There was a private despair I felt, not easy to articulate to others because it didn't fit the mould of what I generally was. In reality, I mainly was a happy person, if you weigh up time in percentages. I laughed a reasonable amount, and when I was in company I had a pretty good time. However, certain works of fiction and non-fiction have noted that everyone has a private world, with feelings that are darker than those which they display in public. Even taking this into account, I refused to believe that many could feel the absolute and total despair that I did at certain times. External factors played their part to some degree, among them weather and physical illness, but my problem was internal and elusive. I stopped believing, stopped trying and became one going through the motions, an actor playing the same role because he hasn't the heart to take on something else.

So, it was 10pm and I had drunk a combination of beer and wine and was feeling warm. We were outside the pub, just leaving, when we noticed an argument starting over a woman. The 2 fighters had both been consuming beer at the English rate of consumption and now it all 'kicked off'. At first, it was fists but then out of nowhere the one who actually had the girlfriend produced a blade. I hadn't seen this, and in my slightly tipsy state had decided to intervene and instigate a peaceful outcome, fatally doing this with a smile on my face which could I suppose have been taken for a certain disregard for the importance for the protagonists of this confrontation. At times like these, I really did feel that love was what was needed, and that all that was required was to take the pressure down a few notches. Perhaps my attempted push did appear aggressive, and the man with the knife plunged his weapon into the right side of my chest in one swift movement.

I lay there and appeared to be smiling. How can i describe the feeling of my injury, of being stabbed? I suppose a 'stabbing' pain is the best i can come up with. I know that it hardly hurt at all. I lay on my back, feeling at peace while everyone around me acted hysterically. The ambulance was on its way, I only survived around 7 minutes after the knife went in. At first I teetered, between life and death. I was the victim of a stabbing, which sounded gruesome, but in fact I should be honest and say that it was something of a blessed relief. In those 7 minutes, I had many thoughts: about my family and how this would upset them, about people i'd known, especially the very few who I felt really understood me, and about life itself. Perhaps my smile was at the irony of recent events because in the past I'd done so much planning for the future, lived in the future in fact, which I felt was a slight improvement on living in the past, and had imagined all kinds of scenarios. Then, the irony disappeared and I realised that my quiet letting go of hope, of life, had inevitably led to an event. Something had to happen because life always plays you some kind of card, good or bad, and here was mine. As the blood drained from my face and then from my body, I left this mortal coil, musing that of all the people I'd known and places I'd been, it was these people, my work colleagues, nice people but hardly soulmates, who were in my company when it ended. I selfishly felt relaxed and relieved. Unbeknownst to me until much later, my family had been incredibly philosophical after the initial shock of 'that' phone call, the one all parents dread. Perhaps it had been a good thing that I'd made my position in life clear to them. I wasn't getting married, wasn't having children and at this moment was no longer playing a card.

That's the first part of this short story. Part two is heaven. It DID exist! Does exist!, and it's something fairly like it's depicted in the film 'A Matter Of Life And Death'. You go up in a lift, fairly modern-looking, and if you were wounded when you died, you still have the marks but without the pain, like Christ after his resurrection. But you are most certainly not going back to Earth. You're here now, and here you stay. The first hour or so is a lot of red tape, a time of limbo, a time between the worlds, where earth-influenced bureaucracy has not quite been eradicated. So, you do earthly things like changing your clothes and having a shower, but because everyone who enters heaven has already fallen into a calm state, there is no drama attached to the waiting, changing and showering time. It just happens, without incident and without ego. From there, you emerge and enter into something that resembles a kind of social centre, a place for people to meet and exist, with grounds for walking and enjoying the vast space. What you realise quickly is that the ego has genuinely disappeared in the people up here, however like humans they appear. You walk around and, because you don't quite shake the earthly influence instantly, you're waiting to hear an argument, or someone hustling someone else, or some type of 'action'. Instead, you find people communicating without their minds being a barrier. They live in an extraordinarily detached world, nothing bothering them at all. No pain, no anger, no bitterness. You can't feel pain because there are no nerves to feel it with. No worries, no fears, no hunger, no thirst (and hence no toilet). Not even any desires. This would sound awful to some people, who would claim that leaders have promised a utopia similar to this before, with disastrous consequences. But here, there's no money. No lust for power. It is something approaching utopia. Except it's not defined. It doesn't need to be. It takes some adjustment, but it doesn't take too long, and as the 'sheople' slowly realise that nobody else is going to start any trouble, and that if they did it themselves their 'heart' wouldn't be in it, that instinct just ceases. So, we have all these souls existing, who look like people but have none of the needs that grind down humans. So, are they like animals, free to roam in the wild? Not exactly, because it is a pure myth of animals 'roaming free in the wild'. Most animals don't, discounting crocodiles for example, who spend the majority of time in a form of meditative state. Animals in the wild are constantly aware of the need to feed themselves, to stake their territory and to ward off potential predators. Ok, they don't torture themselves like humans do with 'to do' lists and anxiety over what bad news has been fed to them by the mainstream media. Their brains are not overloaded with external, artificial temptation, but they still feel anxiety and of course need. So, our souls in heaven are perhaps 'living' an existence more like that of a domesticated pet. Cats and dogs in the home do seem content, if they are not and haven't previously been mistreated, and if you take away the need for food, they are probably even happier.

So, i'm here, in pure heaven. It's not perfect, but I'm refreshed by having lost the instinct to judge. To compare. I'm existing, but it is pleasant, and you get to talk to a lot of people. Everyone remembers their earthly existence, and some like to use their names, but as time goes on the memories fade and the names start to mean nothing. In fact, veterans told me very quickly when I arrived that it takes around 5 years, which is an estimate since time becomes of little importance, for memories of the earthly existence to completely fade. Similarly, hunger, which turns out to be mainly 'food anxiety', lasts as long as you feel anxious that you 'should' be eating. People who still remember talk about their earthly lives, and have fun trying to figure out what it all meant. Couples who were married sometimes meet, but there are no arguments because the reason to argue has gone. The reason was their lives, their situations, and all the very subtle external factors that influence humans every day without them having the slightest inkling of them. Most people in their earthly incarnations knew about advertising, and were fully aware, for example, that McDonalds used posters that made their burgers look nice. However, did they or does anyone ever stop to wonder that experts in human psychology may be being employed against us, people who know things about the average person that the person doesn't know themselves? That messages are put in advertising media that are impossible to spot if you're not looking for them? Now, here in heaven, all that's gone. No money, no stress, no need to work for 'the man', nobody trying to set the course for your life, no artificial, processed, chemicalised food, no heavy metals in the water system. But, there is the sun, and there is meditation, and there is contemplation without ego-driven thought. So, there are earthly things up here, and it's easier to identify the good ones. But what about excitement? football? good films? Well, the nerves which produce the need for excitement are gone, so there's no need for excitement. What passes for a mind doesn't need entertaining though it can still converse. 

I wonder at this point if this is a propaganda story calling for a life of meditation and contemplation. Possibly. Perhaps it's possible to create pure heaven on earth with a tweaking, admittedly a major one, of the system. Even with all the human drives and the system as it is, there are steps that can be taken. Discarding mainstream, corporate media would be a good start. Realising that money is not backed by anything tangible, and that the pieces of paper we use are simply 'promises to pay', would also be positive. And trying to see that a lot of the hate and bitterness that takes the joy out of life can be controlled and lessened with a bit more contemplation. Instead of turning on the t.v. to be shown someone else's view of life every second and to constantly be given limiting options on thought, we could take time to enjoy silence or to read a book that fires the imagination. Meet the neighbours, and try to establish human relationships just like those in heaven. Without ego. Show the other person that you're not talking to them for any reason other than to share some contact. That it is possible to have human relationships on earth that haven't bought in to the propaganda. That not buying into the propaganda is actually allowed, not just something people talk about. Existing in a pure state, just like at the very beginning.

Now, returning to heaven, here's the fun part. All the souls in heaven are aware of their previous earthly existence and so recognise others that they shared events with. Previously famous people get recognised therefore, but without that driven lust on Earth, they are just a curious and amusing oddity until the memory fades. There is no screaming their names and certainly no mobbing. The souls that were truly connected on Earth are observed to gravitate towards others magically, so out of all those billions of souls, there is a stronger-than-average chance that they will run into each other. The souls seem to last what could be calculated as around 50-100 years in the first realm before moving into the next, by then physically and mentally unrecognisable from their previous earthly identity. So, certain figures from the last 50 years exist in the first realm, and this brings up some interesting encounters. It's perfectly true that Lee Harvey Oswald has met John Fitzgerald Kennedy on a number of occasions, and of course without the emotions of pain, hate, anger, bitterness, guilt etc..to inhibit their interaction, they can almost joke about those big couple of days in Dallas, memories now fading but still clear enough to recall their final days on Shakespeare's 'stage'. LHO insists that he didn't kill JFK though he did consider the initial offer and he was there in Dallas that day. Unfortunately, he can't remember why! In this realm, with nothing to gain from lying and nothing at stake, there is no reason to disbelieve him. Famous (and non-famous) murderers gravitate towards their former victims, especially those to whom they did horrible things, and everyone can discuss it together, with no thoughts of superiority and inferiority, moral or otherwise. Please note that i have chosen the word 'heaven' as a recognisable name for the first realm following the soul's time in a physical body on Earth. It's not the religious heaven that would not permit a murderer to ascend to the good place. John Lennon and George Harrison have sung together, with Mark David Chapman in attendance. Does that sound incredible? ridiculous? it's actually perfectly natural and right because the barriers have been lifted and things can be seen without all the conditioning that must by its very nature skew one's judgement.

Many 'people' exist in this place, or look like people for a while anyway. I look back now and again to my life, as many do, and I can see things that I never saw while I was there. I can now see all kinds of ways that I could have achieved what I have now, the peace and lucidity, without my time on Earth having to end. Of course, that's the elusive nature of what the creator has created. He is not driving events really, just putting something in place and leaving it for others to play with, to improve and sometimes to destroy.

'All that you touch and see, taste and feel, love and hate, save and waste, give, deal, buy, beg, borrow or steal, all you do, say, eat, everyone you meet, all you slight, everyone you fight, all that is now, gone and to come', is right here now.'

Thoughts on the programme 'Executed'

Last night, I watched the Timothy Evans section of the programme 'Executed' on ITV in England and it was frustratingly slick television mixed in with genuine grief and sadness from Evans's family at the event itself.  A friend of mine who worked for a media company gave me the sound advice, 'don't ever believe what you see on TV', which doesn't mean that none of it is true but that it shouldn't be taken as literal truth and is all presented and edited to give a certain impression, usually a very simple one so that the viewers don't have to think too hard while watching.

Some of the programme was correct in that Evans's mother did shout that Christie was the murderer outside the courtroom during Evans's trial, and Evans did eventually accuse Christie of the murders of his wife and daughter.  The ever-smiling Tim was part of his character but not the whole story, and Beryl seems to have been a nice person although fairly adept at handling herself in physical confrontations. It was interesting to see the original photos of the Evans family, and there's no reason to doubt that both parents doted on baby Geraldine, the most innocent victim in this sorry saga. 

However, certain known facts were not mentioned or were misrepresented and other things simplified:

- Tim is portrayed as a harmless dimwit, fitting in nicely with the 'standard version' from Ludovic Kennedy's book. The files that were opened in the 1990s show this to be not the case, as he was a drinker who was seen with his arms round his wife's neck by one of the neighbours during an argument. The programme highlights his childlike nature and low mental age, but he was also able to hold down a job in the adult world and his mental age doesn't make it less likely that he was the killer, as it is a primitive, primal act.

-Basil Thorley, Beryl's brother, genuinely grieves his sister, but unlike how he is portrayed in the programme, he always thought Evans did it even when nobody else did, and chatted amiably with Christie outside the court during Evans's trial.

-There is no mention of the Evanses' frequent and often violent arguments, and a rather rosy picture is offered.

-Christie is portrayed in a simplistic way as aggressive and horrible. Again, part of this is true, and he was apparently rude to Evans's sisters when they came to inquire about the whereabouts of Tim and his wife and daughter, but Jonathan Oates's book offers a more rounded portrait of Christie, who was liked by many he came into contact with

-Only one of Evans's 4 official statements is mentioned, the one where he implicated Christie, whereas he confessed 3 times to killing his wife and baby.

-It is assumed that Evans' pardon in 1966 meant that he was officially an innocent man, whereas Judge Brabin's verdict was that he probably killed his wife but not his daughter.

-Basil Thorley says that Beryl had told him that Christie had 'interfered' with her and 'touched her up'. Why then would she agree to let him abort her baby?

The whole case is very sad and tragic, but my point as ever is to cut through the emotion and try to draw an accurate conclusion. The police probably were hasty in their original conclusions and keen to get the case put to bed quickly. John Eddowes theorised in his 1994 book that Christie could have been a police informant, which would explain his economic survival despite being frequently off work.

TV programmes exist to serve advertisers rather than viewers and so need to tow the establishment line. Of course, this case was different in that officialdom has 'officially' been found to have got it wrong, but once again an overly simplistic review of the facts is given, as befits the make up of mainstream programming.