And It Just Gets Better – Steve Beckow

Canadian Gray Jay ~ Paul Reeves Photography – Thinkstock


And It Just Gets Better

As a pillar, I’m here to the end. If I contract Coronavirus and die, well … I guess that’s the end.


Well, I’m having fun in the new discussion groups. It’s offering me an outlet for my desire to share and read others’ shares.

We’re waiting for you to join us. No need to keep your social distance in here. And you don’t need to dress up. Come as you are!

Let’s have a tribal council in there. Some serious discussion. Where two or more are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

That’s what I hope will happen.

Here’s my first post in the Life After Death subgroup. I’ve added a fair amount to it.

In 1977 my fear of death left me when I saw that I was not my body as a result of an out-of-body experience.

I awoke in a lucid dream, finding myself in a land which I knew must be another dimension.

Some young men were abusing a friend of mine. They were just being mean to him, nothing serious.

I asked them to stop but they couldn’t see or hear me. I was frustrated, aghast, angry and began to cry. When no one could hear me, I began to wail.

Well, you can’t have a serious emotional outburst on the other side without needing to fall back a level. When you’re outside your body, falling back means returning to your body.

I found myself whizzing through space, backwards, as if my Mother had grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and was hauling me away.

I experienced myself entering into a very large wet suit. I tapped on its outer walls and realized it was my body. I was re-entering my body. Oh my gosh!

For a while I remained inside it, not aware of what was happening on the outside – not looking through its eyes or smelling through its nose. Not operating any of the bells and whistles of this wet suit that I was comfortably inside of. Looking back on it, I think my spirit body was much smaller than my physical body. It was like being inside a small room.

At first I experienced myself inside it and then slowly and almost imperceptibly, my senses shifted to the outside. The body’s walls were as resistant as India rubber (like a car tire or a lacrosse ball).

I saw that as the result of what happened to me when my consciousness shifted from inside to outside.

All this time I was still wailing. We experience emotions like sorrow much more acutely in the spirit body than we do in the physical. When my faculties had switched from inside to outside, the wail became a whimper. The wail could not get through the India rubber of my body.

That showed me how non-conductive the physical body was compared to the spirit. That demonstration has never left me. It had a terrific impact.

This physical body may as well be a non-conductor of emotions, compared to the feather-soft spirit body I was in – etheric, astral, I know not.

Well, if I’m not my body and my body is just a Superman suit I’m wearing, what’s there about death to be afraid of? I’ve seen where we go and I’ve seen my body as different from me. In the face of that truth, the fear of death disintegrated! It disappeared, never to return.

Fear (false events appearing real) cannot survive the truth. (1) If the fear is shown to have a false basis, the ground falls out from under it and it ceases to exist.

Our fear vanishes immediately when we realize that we (the spirit inside the body) will not die if the body dies.

So all that’d happen to me if this body died from CV-19 is that I’d step outside it as I would my clothing and keep on going. And it just gets better.


(1) I fear the death of the body, normally, because I fear that that will be the death of “me” as well. Because I am the body. Without the body I do not exist.

But I saw that none of that was true. That’s old-style thinking. I am not identical with my body. I am not dependently-functioning part of the body. I and the body are two, not one.

That’s the only separation that is probably acceptable. I am not my body.


Gratitude to all artists & photographers. Any queries, please contact me, Shekinah

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