You are an eternal being engaged in a brief mortal experience ... that's the truth.
This is a proving ground ... a time to learn ... like practice before the real game.
Don't be afraid ... it's just a phase change ... a transition from one 'time realm' to another.
No U-hauls behind the hearse of course, but you can collect valuable gems along the way.
Families ... eternal, golden chains ... linking generation to generation to generation.
To protect The Rising Generation from war, we need a plan to make Peace wildly profitable.
How fast are you moving right now? Probably faster than you think!
A letter from Danielle, Grandpa & Chicken Whittles’ oldest granddaughter and the mother of their first great-grandson.
Rread from chapters (below) and / or download a free pdf copy of “What’s it like to die, Grandpa?”
It’s a good day. You feel good about yourself. You are driving down the freeway, confident in who you are and what you are doing. You have an appointment to keep. You glance at your watch and realize that if all goes well, you will be exactly on time.
You make a mental note that making your appointment may require a few breaks. As if by magic, the car in front of you moves out of the way. Your good fortune continues. You feel as Moses must have when leading Israel through Red Sea, cars and trucks parting the way as you progress. You exit the freeway, and the light at the end of the ramp miraculously turns green. So it goes until you turn into the parking lot to make your appointment. As if on cue, a car backs out of a perfect parking spot. You glide in, there with minutes to spare. All is right with your world. These are the things that happen, and this is how you feel when the way is prepared before you.
You can probably recall time when things did not go quite so smoothly. When the car in front of you stopped and you could not get by, when the traffic signal turned red just before you approached, when the parking place wasn’t there …
… while you are here, how much time passes back home?
Ask yourself. Is it possible? Did you exist before you were born? Does your identity continue after you die? Deep inside, you know the answer.
Not only did you exist in spirit form before you came to earth, everybody else did too. Likewise, every last one of us will exist after we depart this earth.
Hence, the pain of earthly parting will be erased, and in its place will be the joy of being reunited with friends, family, parents, grandparents, and loved ones. Parenthetically, you will probably see those you did not love. Think about it. Has a loved one passed away? Would you feel better if you knew that you will see them, hold them in your arms, and look them in the eye? Count on it.
Knowing how things really are is a source of true and lasting joy.
To recap: you existed as a spiritual being before you took on a body of flesh and bone. Before your advent on earth, before you were born, you had an identity, and you knew other spirits.
Have you ever experienced déjà vu? Perhaps when you met someone and you simply ‘knew’ them? How about this for an explanation? You are eternal beings, you knew each other before coming to earth, and you planned to meet here … in such and such a place, at such and such a time, and in these circumstances. The deep and inexplicable feelings you experience are the result of an eternal confirmation that the two of you had a “See you on the other side” agreement.
Your earthly body is a temporary temple that houses your spirit; it is a costume that you put on to play out your roles here on the earth. Naturally, knowing all this may greatly affect the way you look at almost everything. Take time for instance.
Realms of Time
Putting ‘time’ in an accurate perspective may affect how you view your life. By comparing time as reckoned in the eternities to time rendered in your temporal, earthly sphere, you will get a better, understanding of the fleeting nature of your mortal life …
At the age of eight, the day after Thanksgiving 1961, I had an experience that taught me where we come from, and where are we going. With this knowledge as a backdrop, I have been able to infer a great deal about why we are here.
My mother, grandmother, grandfather, and I lived at 730 Marion Street in the Capitol Hill section of Denver. The house, built in 1912, was three stories high; I lived on the second floor with my mother. In 1962, I moved to the third floor, where I could look westward at the Rocky Mountains framed by the high branches of the elm trees that lined the street. That is a story for another day.
As a boy, I had the privilege and pleasure of owning a dapple-grey Irish Connemara pony (at 14.2 hands, really a small horse) named Leprechaun. During the summers, we boarded ‘Lep’ at the Walter Paepcke farm in Aspen. Almost every summer day, I rode Lep on the mountain trails surrounding Aspen. Our rides generally ranged through the high alpine foothills that separated Maroon Creek from Castle Creek; some parts of this land later became the Aspen Highlands ski area.
During the school year, Lep was moved to Denver, where we boarded her at the Flying J Stables (9300 East Iliff, if you know the area) on what were then the plains east of Denver. I rode almost every day after school. Obviously, I led a good and probably even a pampered life. At the time, I suppose I took it all for granted. It was, truth told, what I knew. Thanks to my three parents!
On Thanksgiving Day in 1961 (I was eight), my friend Vicky Emery called. Vicky, who lived two streets over and one street down on Humboldt Street, and I both went to Graland Country Day School. She was in fourth grade and I in third; we both kept our horses at the Flying J and rode together all the time. Our parents took turns shuttling us from school to the stables and back home. My grandmother always had a book or her journal, and was content to wait in her yellow 1955 Chrysler New Yorker Deluxe. I digress. On this particular day, Vicki had called to ask if I wanted to go riding on what would ultimately become known to U.S. retailers as “Black Friday”; it was the day after Thanksgiving.
Vicky explained that family friends were visiting from out-of-town, and wanted to go horseback riding. I had had a cold, had not ridden for a couple of weeks, felt well, and was excited to go. I asked permission from Mom or Gram (can’t remember which), received it, and accepted the invitation. Vicki explained that she and “Dr. Kwan” would pick me up about 7:30 the next morning.
I donned my best for the occasion — canary yellow riding breeches, leather riding boots, and so on (same as for the Woody Creek Horse Show, summer 1961, above — of course, they cut off my clothes and even my boots in the emergency room). I was dressed early, and sat anxiously watching out the front bay window in the dining room. When I saw the station wagon approach, I dashed out the front door, jumped down the steps two at a time, and hopped into the back seat. We chatted as we made the thirty-minute drive to the stables.
Upon our arrival, Mr. Norgren, the kind and gentle rancher who owned Flying J was there to greet us. He had obviously been expecting us, and had a horse ready for Dr. Kwan. Vicki and I got about saddling up our mounts. When Mr. Norgren noticed that I did not have a helmet on (I left through the front door of our house, and my helmet was next to the back door), he took out a pair of bolt-cutters, cut the padlock off someone else’s tack box, and pulled out what is called a ‘dress’ riding helmet. It belonged to girl whose name I do not recall. What I do remember was that the helmet was covered in black velvet, and seemed a little big. Mr. Norgren told me, firmly, to “Wear it anyway.” At the time, it seemed unusual. As it turned out, Mr. Norgren’s decisive act probably saved my life.
Although it was a cold, overcast November day, we had a good ride. Having not been ridden for a couple of weeks, Lep was frisky and spirited — eager to get out, kick up her heels, get some exercise, and with good horse logic, to return to the stable. Like most horses, she well knew the way home, back to her stall filled with clean straw and warm oats to eat. The journey back to the stable was life-changing.
The diagram shows what happened. The red line marks where Lep and I were running for home. I was in the lead, ahead of Vicky and Dr. Kwan. We were running through a stubble field, and had to go through an open gate in a fence that separated the field from a one lane hard-packed dirt road that the ranch and farm equipment and machinery used. The road was next to a deep (12’ or so) irrigation ditch. Naturally, in November, the irrigation ditch was dry. It was a protected place to ride — the bottom was sandy, and the horses the liked to walk in it. Just as I went through the fence, a girl named Nancy Lamb rode up through a narrow gap in the ditch bank. Leprechaun shied, and I was thrown, whip-like because my left foot caught in the stirrup, flat on my back onto the frozen ground. In a split second, my liver shattered, a vessel to my heart disconnected on impact and I stopped breathing. It is likely that, had not Mr. Norgren had the foresight to see to it that I was wearing a helmet, my skull would also have been shattered and this story would have ended differently. Lep stopped instantly, but no matter. The damage was done.
After the fall, the next thing I heard was Vicky’s voice calling, “Jamey, get up, get up.” I tried to stand, and crumpled to the ground … faintly the words “not like that” passed through my mind. The next thing I knew, I was rising above my body, looking down on my crumpled form with the horses and people (Nancy, Vicky and Dr. Kwan) standing around me. You may very well ask, “What is it like to die?” The best way I can explain it is like this …
Are times gonna' change? ... Is something blowin' in the wind? ... What will light our fire?
What could Grandpa Whittles know?
Hey Grandpa! Volume I -- available from Amazon in Kindle Format
$2.99 -- a happy meal ... for your mind & spirit
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… from several chapters. There’s more, of course.
Although the architecture of the mechanism is yet unknown, we can communicate with our Heavenly Father through prayer.
Patient eyes see the world differently. Gracious, tolerant, ever willing to forgive, shaped by gentle crinkly smiles, patient eyes reflect a spirit filled with understanding, confidence, and trust.
Grant me not lesser trials, but rather greater strength to meet them. We all have trials. They are an essential part of life’s refining processes. Trials strip away our sense of stability and security.
Who among us has not felt fear? Who has not experienced a sense of trembling uncertainty when the unknown looms dark and unfathomable before you? It is then that a measure of courage is among your heartfelt desires.
Fortunately, we are not alone in life, and can get help in learning how to fill the measure of our creation. We can model our behavior after the good people around us, especially our family and our contemporaries.
Where Did I Come From? … Why Am I Here? … Where Am I Going? These are life’s most engaging questions. If you are not asking them now, perhaps you want to get started …
Say it’s true. You are an eternal being. After you complete your mortal life, you return and report. Naturally, the goal is to have lived your life in such a manner as to face every future event with courage and confidence.
GET READY! The Rising Generation will lead the way, creating a million new jobs, restoring the American Dream and revivifying America’s brand, both domestic and international … say you’re with them, yes?
They’ve read the story–this is what they say.
Incredible story. I loved reading it and appreciate that you shared something so sacred with me. I’m glad you chose to come back.
WOW !!! What a wonderful explanation of life after this one! Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
An amazing treasure ...
When I was about five years old, mom would turn on the radio to the "Heart To Heart Hour" which was a weekly broadcast by the Rev. Leland Entrican. "Count Your Blessings" was the the theme song and has always been my favorite hymn. I love it still ... I also love what has happened to my dear friend Whittles. You have always been brilliant, but this light now has a glorious shine that embraces all who are fortunate enough to read this book. The necessary message herein is immediate as it is eternal. God bless you, we certainly do.