The Tenth Insight: Holding the Vision (19 page)

Wil paused as if in thought, then continued. “All this is more of the Tenth Insight; that’s why we’re seeing it. As communication
between the two dimensions increases, we’ll begin to have more encounters with souls in the Afterlife. This part of the Insight
is that we must discern between those souls who are awake and connected with the spirit of love and those who are fearful
and stuck in an obsessive trance of some kind. But we must do so without invalidating and dehumanizing those caught in such
fear dramas by thinking they are demons or devils. They are souls in a growth process, just like us. In fact, in the Earth
dimension those who are now caught up in dramas from which they can’t escape are often the very souls who were the most optimistic
in their Birth Visions.”

I shook my head, not following his meaning.

“That is why,” he continued, “they chose to be born into such drastic, fearful situations that necessitate such intense, crazy
coping devices.”

“You’re talking about coming into abusive and dysfunctional families, that sort of situation?”

“Yes. Intense control dramas of all kinds, whether they are violent or just perverse and strange addictions, come from environments
where life is so abusive and dysfunctional and constrictive, and the level of Fear is so great, that they spawn this same
rage and anger or perversion over and over, generation after generation. The individuals who are born into these situations
choose to do so on purpose, with clarity.”

The idea seemed preposterous to me. “Why would anyone want to be born into a place like that?”

“Because they were sure they had enough strength to break out, to end the cycle, to heal the family system in which they would
be born. They were confident that they could awaken and work through the resentment and anger at finding themselves in these
deprived circumstances, and see it all as a preparation for a mission—usually one of helping others out of similar situations.
Even if they are violent, we have to see them as having the potential to break free of the drama.”

“Then the liberal perspective on crime and violence, the idea that everyone can change and be rehabilitated, is the desirable
one. The conservative approach is without merit?”

Wil smiled. “Not exactly. The liberals are right to see that people who have grown up in abusive and oppressive situations
are a product of their environments, and the conservatives are out of touch to the extent they believe stopping a life of
crime or public dole is just a matter of making a conscious choice.

“But the liberal approach is superficial as well, to the degree they believe people can change if offered different circumstances,
better financial support, or education, for instance. Usually intervention programs focus only on helping others to better
their decision making and economic choices. In the case of violent offenders, rehabilitation attempts have always offered,
at best, superficial counseling and, in the worst cases, excuses and leniency, which is precisely the wrong thing to do. Every
time someone with a disturbed control drama is slapped on the hand, turned loose with no consequences, it enables the behavior
to continue and reinforces the idea that this behavior is not serious, which just sets up the circumstances that guarantee
it will occur again.”

“Then what can be done?” I asked.

Wil seemed to be vibrating with excitement. “We can learn to intervene spiritually! And that means helping to bring the whole
process into consciousness, as these souls here are doing for those caught in the illusions.”

Wil was staring at the souls in the ring, then looked at me and shook his head. “I can get all the information I’ve just relayed
to you from these souls, but I still can’t see the World Vision clearly. We haven’t learned how to build enough energy yet.”

I focused on the souls in the ring but could get no information other than what Wil had conveyed. Clearly the soul groups
held a greater knowledge and were projecting this knowledge toward the fear constructions, but like Wil, I still couldn’t
quite understand anything more.

“At least we have another piece of the Tenth Insight,” Wil said. “We know that no matter how undesirable the behavior of others
is, we have to grasp that they are just souls attempting to wake up, like us.",

I was suddenly jolted backward by a blast of dissonant noise, images of whirling colors seizing my mind. Wil lunged forward
and caught me at the last moment, pulling me into his energy and again holding me back firmly. For a moment I seemed to shake
violently and then the discord passed.

“They’ve started the experiment again,” Wil said.

I shook off the dizziness and looked at him. “That means Curtis will probably try to use force to stop them: He’s convinced
that’s the only way.”

As soon as I spoke those words, I saw a clear picture of Fey-man in my mind, the man David Lone Eagle thought had something
to do with the experiment. He was somewhere overlooking
the valley. Glancing at Wil, I realized that he had seen the same image. He nodded in agreement and we instantly began to
move.

W
hen we stopped, Wil and I were facing each other. Around us was more gray. Another loud, disharmonious sound shattered the
silence, and Wil’s face began to lose focus. He continued to hold onto me, and after several moments the sound ended.

“These sound bursts are coming more frequently now,” Wil said. “We may not have much time left.”

I nodded, fighting the dizziness.

“Let’s look around,” Wil said.

As soon as we focused on our surroundings, we saw what appeared to be a mass of energy several hundred yards away. Immediately
it closed to within forty or fifty feet.

“Be careful,” Wil cautioned. “Don’t identify completely with them. Just listen and find out who they are.”

I focused warily, and immediately saw souls in motion and an image of the town from which I had escaped.

I recoiled in fear, which actually made them come closer to us.

“Stay centered in love,” Wil instructed. “They can’t pull us in unless we act as though we want them to save us. Try to send
them love and energy. It’ll either help them or make them run away.”

Realizing the souls were more afraid than I was, I found my center and beamed them love energy. Immediately they moved rapidly
away from us to their original position.

“Why can’t they accept the love and wake up?” I asked Wil.

“Because when they feel the energy and it raises their consciousness a degree, their preoccupation lifts somewhat and
doesn’t fend off the anxiety of their aloneness. Coming into awareness and breaking free of a control drama always feels anxious
at first, because the compulsion has to lift before the inward solution to the lostness can be found. That’s why a ‘dark night
of the soul’ sometimes precedes increased awareness and spiritual euphoria.”

A movement to the right caught our attention. When I focused, I realized that other souls were in the area; they came closer
and the others moved away. I strained to pick up on what the group was doing.

“Why do you think this group is here?” I asked Wil.

He shrugged. “They have something to do with this guy Feyman.”

In the space around the group I began to see a moving image, a scene of some kind. When I brought it clearly into focus, I
realized it was the image of an expansive industrial plant somewhere on Earth, with large metal buildings and rows of what
looked like transformers and pipes and miles of interlinking wire. At the center of the complex, atop one of the largest buildings,
was a command center of pure glass. Inside I could see rows of computers and gauges of all descriptions. I glanced at Wil.

“I see it,” he said.

As we continued to survey the complex, our perspective expanded so that we could now view the plant from above. From here
we could see miles of wire leaving the plant in all directions, feeding huge towers containing some sort of laser beams shooting
energy out to other local stations.

“Do you know what all this is?” I asked Wil.

He nodded. “It’s a centralized energy-generating plant.”

Movement at one end of the complex attracted our attention. Emergency vans and fire trucks were arriving at one of the larger
buildings. An ominous glow radiated from the third-floor windows. At one point the glow brightened and then the ground under
the entire building seemed to crack. In an explosion of dust and debris the building shuddered and then slowly collapsed.
To the right another building burst into flames.

The scene moved to the command center, where inside, technicians moved frantically. From the right a door opened and a man
entered with an arm full of charts and blueprints. He laid them out on a table and worked with what appeared to be determined
confidence. Walking with a limp to one side of the room, he began to adjust switches and dials. Gradually the ground stopped
shaking and the fires were brought under control. He continued to work hastily and to instruct the other technicians.

I looked at the individual now in charge more closely and then turned to Wil. “That’s Feyman!”

Before Wil could respond, the scene shifted into fast-forward. Before our eyes the plant was saved, then, quickly, workers
began to dismantle it, building by building. At the same time, on a site nearby, a new, smaller facility was being constructed
that would manufacture more compact generators. Finally most of the complex had been returned to its natural, wooded state,
and the new facility was turning out small units that we could see behind each house and business throughout the countryside.

Abruptly our perspective backed away until we could see a single individual in the foreground watching the same scene we were.
When we could see his profile, I realized that it was Fey-man, before his current birth, contemplating what he could achieve
in life.

Wil and I looked at each other. “This is part of his Birth Vision, isn’t it?” I asked.

Wil nodded. “This must be his soul group. Let’s see how much more we can find out about him.”

We both focused on the group, and another image formed in front of us. It was the nineteenth-century war camp; the headquarters
tent again. We could see Feyman together with the commander, the man I had seen again in the illusional town. Feyman was the
other aide who had been there with Williams. He was the one who limped.

As we watched their interaction, we began to pick up on the story of their association. A bright tactician, Feyman was in
charge of strategy and technological developments. In advance of the attack the commander had ordered smallpox-laden blankets
covertly traded to the Native Americans, a tactic Feyman adamantly opposed, not so much because of its effect on the indigenous
people as because he felt that it was politically indefensible.

Afterward, even as the success of the battle was being hailed in Washington, the press found out about the use of smallpox,
and an investigation was launched. The commander and his cronies in Washington set Feyman up as the scapegoat and his career
was ruined. Later the commander set forth on a glorious political career and national stature, before he was also treacherously
double-crossed by the same Washington insiders.

Feyman, for his part, never recovered; his own political ambitions had been totally destroyed. Over the years he became increasingly
more embittered and resentful, trying desperately to marshal public opinion to challenge his commander’s account of the battle.
For a while several journalists pursued the story, but soon public interest faded completely and Feyman remained in a state
of disgrace. Later, toward the end of his life, he languished in the realization that his political goals would never be reached,
and, blaming his old commander for his humiliation, he attempted
to assassinate the ex-politician at a state dinner and was shot dead by bodyguards.

Because Feyman had cut himself off from his inner security and love, he could not fully awaken after death. For years he believed
he had escaped his ill-fated attempt to kill his old commander, and had lived in illusional constructions, holding on to his
hate and doomed to the repeated horror of planning and attempting another assassination, only to be shot, over and over.

As I watched, I realized that Feyman could have been trapped in the illusions for a much longer period of time had it not
been for the determined efforts of another man who had been at the military encampment with Feyman. I could see an image of
his face, and I recognized his expression.

“That’s Joel again, the journalist I met,” I said to Wil without losing my focus on the image.

Wil nodded in response.

After death, Joel had become a member of the outer soul ring and became totally dedicated to waking up Feyman. His intention
during the lifetime with Feyman had been to expose any cruelty or treachery on the part of the military toward the Native
Americans, but even though he had known about the smallpox contamination, he had been persuaded to keep quiet by a combination
of bribes and threats. After death he had been devastated by his Life Review, but had remained conscious, and had vowed to
help Feyman, who he felt had been ruined because of his failure to intervene.

After a long period of time, Feyman finally responded and underwent a long and painful Life Review himself. He had originally
intended in the nineteenth-century life to become a civil engineer, involved in the peaceful development of technology. But
he had been beguiled by the prospect of becoming a war
hero, like the commander, and of developing new war strategies and devices.

In the years between lives, he had been involved in helping others on Earth with the proper use of technology, when he slowly
began to receive a vision of another life approaching. Slowly at first and then with great conviction, he realized that soon
mass-energy devices would be discovered that had the potential of liberating humankind, but these devices would be extremely
dangerous.

As he felt himself being born, he knew that he would come to work with this technology, and he was well aware that in order
to succeed, he would have to again face his tendency to crave power and recognition and status. Yet he saw that he would have
help; there would be six other people. He visualized the valley, working together somewhere in the dark, the falls in the
background, utilizing a process to bring in the World Vision.