Peter Richelieu: a SOUL S JOURNEY

Peter Richelieu: A SOUL’S JOURNEY

A fantastic informative book from experiences from the 40ths on the afterlife, nigh-astral-travels and more

about this book/readers say;

“While in a state of despair after the death of his brother, the author is visited by Acharya, an Indian mystic. Using astral projection, Acharya takes him out of the physical world onto the astral planes of the 'afterlife'. Each astral plane teaches something new about life and death, karma and the ego. Through a series of meetings with the 'dead' - including his brother - the author comes to realize how irrational it is to fear death. Through his teaching, Acharya opens up a whole vision of life in the world that follows this, a world where anything is possible. Based on notes taken immediately following out-of-body experiences, this book is both enlightening and absorbing. It gives the reader a direct insight into the unknown mysteries of life and death.”

“Superbly Incredible book ! As good and ithink abit more better and detailed than Robert Monroe beautiful classic works on same subject ! “

“I read this book in 1992 and it changed by life. I practiced the exercises set out in the book (visualisation, remembering/noting dreams on waking etc) and after a relatively short period of time I experienced many”

First published in South Africa under the title FROM THE TURRET by Graphic Stationers & Publishers, Durban Copyright @ 1953 and 1958 by Peter Richelieu First published in Great Britain, with revisions, entitled A SOUL'S JOURNEY, by Turnstone Press Ltd 1972

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in

any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar

condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Set in

Intertype Times Printed in Great Britain by Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd., Aylesbury, Bucks.

Dedicated toall those who seek.

‘As a man casts off old clothes and puts on new ones, so the embodied self, casting off

old bodies proceeds to other and new ones.’

Bhagavad Gita

other editions of this book (choose in word’s topmenu “view”>printview>to show all pictures here)

Foreword

In spite of the fact that I am no writer and claim no gifts or experience in that direction, this book is given to the world without apology, for I am carrying out orders from those who must be obeyed.

The part of the book, which will hold the interest of the largest number of readers, is that which begins at Chapter Four. For those people who have no recollection of their life and activities during sleep, even this part will contain many completely new ideas. As many of these calls for explanation, readers are advised to avoid the temptation of skimming quickly through the preliminary chapters in order to reach this one more quickly! These introductory chapters, which are written in the form of talks by a Hindu guru, are so filled with vital information that they hold the key not only to what follows in the book, but to what happens to all of us at one time or another. Those who read them slowly and carefully and who refer to them often, will glean the most general information and acquire the best groundworkfor the appreciation of the story, which follows.

In writing down my experiences I have added no embellishments. If these experiences help a few of you to understand the scheme of life and so be comforted, if they give you an insight into the nature of evolution and provide you with a reason for making friends of animals - they will not have been written in vain.

Peter Richelieu

Prologue

It was the 7th of July 1941, and I was still brooding over a cable I had received from the War Office in London three days before, telling me that Charles, my dear young brother,had been killed in action over England. He was only twenty-three; more than a yearbefore he had joined the R.A.F. and qualified as a pilot. Of course we were proud of him- who would not want to join the R.A.F. if he were twenty one years of age, fit as a fiddleand eager to do his bit for the old country? Naturally we knew that the life of a pilot wasprecarious, but somehow it did not seem that anything could happen to him. People areoften like that with those they love, and Charles and I had always been closer to eachother than ordinary brothers although there was a difference of ten years in our ages.I remembered the first time he proudly told us he had downed his first enemy plane. Theinitial shock from the news of Charles's death was severe, and now, for the first time inmy life, I felt bitter against the Powers that Be, the beneficent Creator who is talked of soglibly. How could He be beneficent if He allowed the innocent to be killed?

I had been brought up a Catholic, not a very strict one perhaps, and I had taken manythings for granted, in the way Christians do. Religion was part of one's life and, on certaindays, time had to be given to it; at other times one did not think very much about whatwas expected of a Christian, a follower of Christ. Now I thought about these things forthe first time, and I did not feel that I wanted to go to church - certainly not to a priest. Idid not want to pray; why should I? God had taken away from me the dearest thing Ipossessed in the world, and although I did not curse God, I certainly came very near tohating Him. A friend had told me that Charles was well out of this war, that the nextworld was most certainly a better place than this one at the moment, and that I should bethankful. But I was not thankful; I had so much looked forward to see hischeery face andhear his hearty laugh at his next leave - which we had arranged to spend together. Nowthe future was a blank.

It was in just this mood that I sat on the never-to-be-forgotten morning a few weeks ago -the dayHecame. Although now, judging from the change, which has taken place in me, itseems as if it could all have taken place in a former existence, yet I can remember everydetail, and shall until I die. I shall try to tell the story just as it happened, but if therecording seems to be disjointed - you must forgive me, for I have never tried to write a story before and only do so now because I want others to be comforted, even as I wascomforted.

About 11 o'clock on that morning there was a knock at the door, and my servant told methat there was a man in the hall who wished to see me. 'What sort of man?' I asked. Hisreply was: 'A strange man, master; I think perhaps he come to beg.' I told the boy to godown and enquire what this man wanted and to come back to let me know. On his returnhe said that the man had a message, which could only be given to me, so with someirritation I told him to bring the man up.

Even though I have seen this man very often since then, I still find it difficult to describeHim- but I shall do my best. He was tall, slim, about forty-five years of age and wore abeard. He was unmistakably a native of Northern India, though his skin was almost aswhite as mine. He was dressed in a simple Indian costume made of material soindiscriminate in colour, that at first sight one might have thought it was dirty, but oncloser inspection one saw that it was spotlessly clean. His feet were encased in sandalsand he wore a turban.

I told the boy to go, and asked my visitor to sit down. He sat down, not on the chair that Ihad indicated but cross-legged on the carpet. It was then that I noticed the benevolentexpression of his eyes, which seemed to contain the wisdom of the ages. So far he hadnot spoken.

'Well.' I said, 'what can I do for you?'He seemed surprised at the question, and took a few seconds to answer it.

'You sent forme,'he said.

This was too much for me, so I replied: 'What on earth do you mean? I've never set eyes

on you before. So am I likely tohave sent for you? Come on, tell me what you want, for I

have work to do.'

'You sent for me,'he repeated, and I suppose the surprise I felt must have been evident inmy expression for he smiled and continued: 'Have you not just lost your brother? Is not ittrue that you have been asking many questions of a hidden Providence, whom you accuseof being instrumental in taking your brother from you? Have not you said many times:"Why should such things be? Why should he be taken and not others? What is the use ofbelieving in a god, when you cannot ask him questions and get from him the answers tothose questions, which mean so much to you."For the last three nights, when you haveslept, you have dreamt that you have been talking to your brother. Youhavebeen talkingto him; you have asked these questions and many others during these hours of fitful sleep.

I am the answer to these questions. I am the messenger who has been sent to make thesethings clear to you, for did not Christ say: "Ask and it shall be given to you; knock and itshall be opened unto you." You have asked-you have knocked, and it now rests with youwhether you still wish to have the answers you have so often clamoured for.'

'Of course I want to hear the answers to my questions,' I said, but who are you and howdo I know that you can tell me what I want to know? Surely you are a man the same as I,alive and in the flesh, yet you talk of knowing my brother, of talking to him, of hearingme ask the very questions that I have asked. Is this magic, or am I dreaming? Convinceme, if you can. You'll find me a good listener, not very credulous I'm afraid, but as youseem to know so much about me already, I'll listen to what you have to say.'

Then he said: 'I am afraid it will take some time to make you understand, but if you arewilling to spare the time, I will come to you for an hour or two most days, until my storyis concluded. I cannot promise that you will be convinced by all I have to tell you, but Ican promise that at least you will be happier than you are now, so for that reason alone,perhaps the time will not entirely be wasted. Is 11 o'clock each morning suitable for you?'

I said: 'Yes, oh yes,' rather wondering what I had let, myself in for, but at the same timefeeling that I could get rid of him after the first day, if I found there was a catch in thething.

'I looked up to carry on the conversation, but he had gone. There was no one there, although I had not heard the door open or shut. I began to wonder if I had dreamt it all or whether my brain had become a little deranged, owing to worry and lack of sleep. I even sent for my servant and asked him if he really had brought a man up to see me. When he said he had, I asked if he had seen him go, but he said he had not and resolutely denied that anyone could have left my room and gone out by the front door without his seeing him. That did not help and I still wondered if it had been a dream, for somehow the statement of the boy; that he had brought the man to me, seemed unreal. I decided to wait for the morrow: 11 o'clock was the time he had fixed, and I was certainly going to be in my room at that hour, to see whether he came or not.

Oddly enough I slept that night as I had not slept since I had received that fateful cable; when I woke in the morning, I seemed to have been talking to Charles and telling him about my visitor. In my dreaming, Charles did not seem to be at all surprised, and I woke with a certainty that my Indian friend would turn up as arranged. I decided I would ask him as soon as he arrived how he had managed to go without being seen or heard.

I suppose my door must have been ajar/partly open, for just on 11 o'clock a pleasant voice at my elbow said: 'Well, do you still want those questions answered?'

I had not heard him come, but in a strange way was so reassured by his presence that I replied: 'Certainly, I am ready.' Without any more casual conversation he sat down on the floor. I leant back in my chair, and he started to tell me the most amazing story I have ever heard - a story that even now I cannot fully understand, but one which rang true from the first word, a story which I feel will ring true for others who may read it.

During all the days, which followed, we had little conversation. He came, just as he had done the first day; sometimes he talked for an hour, sometimes longer, and when he had finished for the morning, he put the palms of his hands together in Eastern fashion and went away. I rather think he sensed when I had had enough, when my brain, reeling with strange facts, had reached a stage at which it could take in no more, for I noticed that he sometimes finished suddenly; and without a word of farewell left the room, to return the following morning – when; without any fresh introduction, he started to speak as if he had just finished the sentence with which his previous day's discourse was completed.

Acharya should make more visits in the coming days….picture only to illustrate an idea.

Chapter 1

'I have not come to convert you to any new faith, any new philosophy. I have not beensent to you by him who is my Master to provide answers to the questions, which puzzleyou at present. The only way in which I can do this, is to tell you about the fundamentalfacts of life in the hope that this will give you a foundation of knowledge through whichyou can build up a philosophy of your own. I shall also assist you in gaining practicalexperience, through which you can prove things for yourself. Much of what I say willsound unusual to you but, in many lives, I have studied much and had proof of which hasconvinced me that certain facts are true. I have no desire that you accept what I say asfacts or truth, for you can only do so' when you get to know such things within your ownconsciousness.’

‘ There is an old saying of the Lord Buddha, Who founded the religion which bears Hisname, which illustrates my point. One day one of His disciples came to Him and said: ”Lord, whom shall I believe? One man telleth me this and another that, and both seemsure they are right." The Lord Buddha replied: "My son, believe not that which any mansaith, not even I, the Lord Buddha, unless it appeals to your common sense. And eventhen do not believe it, but treat it as a reasonable hypothesis, until such time as you canprove it for yourself." 'First of all I shall give you a rough outline of the path, which is called evolution, and ofhow that indefinable thing called life is found to flow through the kingdoms of Nature.’

'Of the source of life, I can give you no idea. I do not know and I have never met anyonewho did. But does that matter? All thinking men are agreed that there must be a creativepower behind the Universe; whether we think of that Power as a personal God or just thepower of creation, does not seem to be a matter of great importance. There are many whostill like to think of God as a venerable old man with a beard, an idealistic figure based onthe highest that each person can imagine, but with unlimited powers and anunderstanding of justice that is unequalled amongst men. Who shall say that such an ideais foolish? It may satisfy many but it has no foundation in fact, for no man lives whom canspeak with knowledge of either the creation of the universe or of that thing which we calllife.’

'Although we cannot analyse life, we can contact it. Who has not seen an animal or ahuman, living one minute and dead the next? What has happened during that minute?Certainly something has gone out of the body which one saw in action, and left behindthe still flesh, which, evenas one looks, seems tostart to disintegrate and return to MotherEarth. So we can recognise life as a fact, although we may not be able to understand it,and certainly we cannot create it as we can so many other things in these enlighteneddays. The mind of man has produced many synthetic aids to nature, but not synthetic life. ‘ The world of science tells us that life is found in all the four kingdoms of nature – themineral, vegetable, animal and human kingdoms. We do not need to be told that there islife in the animal and human Kingdoms - we can see that for ourselves - but it is moredifficult to credit that there is life in the mineral and vegetable kingdoms also. Reliablesources tell us that even rocks have life and that when the life-force is withdrawn fromsuch rocks, they commence to decay; in time they crumble and return to the dust, much has a human body does, though the process takes a longer time. It is certainly easier for usto accept the fact that vegetables have life than that rocks have, for when they arewithdrawn from the ground, the source of life in their case, we see for ourselves that theywither and die; in due time they become dust, as do all living things when the life-force iswithdrawn.'