A shadow has followed me for 70 years. The shadow is a question - a question of life and its purpose. As a child the question was not articulated in words, but it was present as feeling. And as I grew older the question transformed again and again, always changing but at the core remaining the same.
In college, when I was introduced to the writings of Plato, I met a friend; his name is Socrates. Socrates said: "An unexamined life is not worth living." The examination of one's life does not occur only at 18 years of age, or 24 or 30 or even 60. It happens continually, that is, if we are willing and aware.
In 1987 I learned a new way to examine my life. I had always liked to write, and through the years I had kept journals of a sort, records of thoughts and experiences. Most of these were destroyed in 1973 after a bout of anger and frustration. But in 1987 I learned something new, and this started me on a journey that blossomed into writing books. I was walking a path and stumbled, fell to the ground, and twisted my ankle. My mentor, a beautiful young lady, asked me to write a conversation with my ankle. A strange suggestion, but I agreed, and surprisingly, a grand experience emerged. What I discovered in this exercise is that there are worlds yet waiting for me to discover. And through writing I have access to these worlds.
In the spring of 2006 I had a similar experience. I was engaged in research on the Internet for a book that I was writing. Wandering around the Internet, following one lead to another on the subject of ancient Roman soldiers, I stumbled into a website where spiritualistic writings were archived. I read a letter supposedly from Solomon, the great wise man of old, where he was asked by a medium, "What is the greatest truth in the world?" When I read Solomon's answer I became a fan and avid reader of the man on earth who asked Solomon the question. The man on earth, I found, was James E. Padgett, born in 1852, a lawyer in Washington, D.C., who at the age of 62 began receiving communications from the spirit world, and did so until his death in 1923.
A new chapter in my life began that day in 2006. This is reflected in my writing, authoring and publishing books in the field of spirituality and spiritualism.
Today, six years later, I feel that I am in a process of another change, one that has brought me to the edge of something completely new.
The question is now asked using these words: Is this how it feels to transition (to die) and begin a new life in the world unseen?