“So,” I said to Lars, “you and Birgitta really believe an actual spiritual entity is speaking through Sturé Johanssen?”
“Oh certainly,” said Birgitta. “First of all, if he isn’t an actual spiritual entity of a highly evolved nature, then Sturé Johanssen is not only a magnificent actor, but he has within himself information and remedies that have saved lots of lives, both physically and mentally. He has also told people things that were so deeply personal that it would be hard to comprehend how Sturé would know. Nor does anybody know where he would, from himself, get the medical information he uses in diagnosis. But each person must have the faith in themselves. Ambres also provides past life information that checks out to be so familiar to people that it has a great bearing on the lives they lead today.”
I opened the car window and breathed deeply.
“You mean, past-life information relating to present-day relationships is possible to ascertain?”
“Yes,” said Lars, “but Ambres emphasizes heavily that this lifetime is the most important because otherwise we’ll get obsessed with the past rather than concentrating on the present.”
“Does he always answer past-life inquiries then?”
“No,” Birgitta answered, “not always. Many times he assesses the questioner and concludes that present-day evaluation is much more necessary. With others he will give quite extensive past-life readings. It depends on the individual.”
I sat awhile in silence as I listened to Birgitta and Lars itemize how helpful Ambres had been in solving questions and issues that had plagued some of the people who had come to him for help. And others who had been simply curious to see how the phenomenon of spiritual channeling worked.
“Listen,” I said finally, “would you say there is much of this sort of thing going on?”
“You mean elsewhere in the world?” asked Lars. “Or just here in Sweden?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Anywhere, I guess.”
“Well, we have lots of friends in America and Europe who are interested in spiritual metaphysics. And yes, trance channeling of spiritual entities is becoming more and more common. It’s almost as though the closer we come to the end of the millennium, the more spiritual help we are getting if we’d just take advantage of it.”
“Well, are some of these trance mediums phony or frauds? I mean, how can you tell the difference between one who is only acting and one who is really in trance?” I asked.
Lars thought about what I asked as though he had never considered the possibility. He looked at Birgitta. They both shrugged.
“We don’t know,” he answered. “I suppose you’d sort of know it when it was happening if it was phony. The material coming through is usually too complicated, or too personal, for the medium to be putting on an act. In any case you would certainly be able to distinguish the difference by the results you yourself got. We’ve never experienced a fake, so we don’t really know.”
“Are many of your co-workers in your advertising firm into this stuff?” I asked.
“Only a few,” answered Lars simply, “those who are interested in spiritual growth. We tend to shy away from people who aren’t willing to be open-minded at least, but there are many, like us, with whom we have become close friends. People who are searching for their own spiritual understanding become those whom we can really communicate with. The others are only acquaintances. They seem to be living on the surface of life rather than in it.”
I took another breath of the pristine Swedish winter air. “What about Sturé Johanssen? What is he like as a person when he’s not channeling?” I asked.
“Sturé is a carpenter,” Lars explained, “and not at all interested in the spiritual world.”
“So does he mind being an instrument when he could be spending his time building bookshelves or something?” I asked.
Lars laughed as the car plodded through the icy streets of Stockholm. “No,” he answered. “He says if it helps people, then he’s all for it. He’s a good man at heart. Simple, but really a good man.”
“And what does Ambres sound like compared to how Sturé sounds?”
“Sometimes it’s quite difficult to understand Ambres’ language,” said Lars, “because it’s such ancient Swedish, something like what it would be for you to listen to biblical English. His phrasing is entirely different from Sturé’s, and even different from the Swedish of today. Ambres says there is no language to express some of the knowledge he would like to give us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, “when he’s trying to teach us about dimensions or concepts we’ve never even thought about, he says any language itself is a limitation.”
“I’m sorry,” I said genuinely, but I must have sounded doubtful, “can you be more specific?”
Lars nodded. “Our spoken and written languages,” he said, “only really describe those dimensions which relate to our five senses. Our physical world. We are only just beginning, through the advancement of astrophysics and psychodynamics, to know that we need to develop language which relates to the worlds that are invisible to us. Little by little, we are beginning to perceive the exciting dimensions of what we simply and sometimes sarcastically refer to as the metaphysical world. That is why Ambres sometimes has a difficult time helping us to understand life from a non-physical plane point of view.”
I shut my eyes as we drove, wondering what it would be like not to be “physical.” I found that the minute I got into discussions of the metaphysical and heard people using words like “occult,” “astral plane,” “cosmic vibrations,” “etheric memory,” “soul,” “God”—the standard vocabulary of a study as old as time—I reacted with nervous derision, sarcastic laughter, suspicion, or outright contempt. This time was no exception. Yet I wanted to know more. I wanted to “experience” a medium myself.
Lars continued as I held my eyes shut. “All sciences have their own vocabularies,” he said, “usually incomprehensible to laymen, to say nothing of their mysteries and marvels and miracles that we take on faith. And the same for all religions. We accept scientific marvels without really understanding them, and we accept religious miracles on faith. I wonder why we, in the Western world, have so much difficulty with the whole concept of experience and thinking that is popularly known as the ‘occult.’ ”
I opened my eyes. “Because,” I said, “when you think of ‘occult’ you think of dark forces and Rosemary’s Baby and stuff It’s scary. Spirits from the dead and all that aren’t very mirth-making, are they?”
Lars chuckled. “Well,” he said, “many people have exploited the occult to focus on the dark side of the metaphysical world. But the light side is inevitably beautiful. You can take anything in nature and focus on the negative, but the positive beauty of it can change your life.”
I rolled up my eyes into my head. Sure, I was sitting in a car in Stockholm with a man and his wife who sounded just like David in Manhattan and Cat in Calabasas, California. Was this stuff going on all over the world?
As though Lars heard my thoughts, he said, “Millions of people all over the world are so interested in this stuff that they support an entire industry of books, teachings, schools, individuals, and literature of all kinds devoted to the metaphysical dimensions of life. I wouldn’t call it the occult anyway. I would call it an interest in the spiritual dimension of life.”
Lars and Birgitta began to speak at the same time. Again they emphasized how “gloriously involving” their spiritual interests had become. They said it had made them happier and more loving people. Through their many sessions with Ambres, they had made lots of new friends who also found themselves believing in the same things. And there seemed to be no question in anyone’s mind that Ambres was a genuine spiritual entity speaking from the astral plane.
I didn’t want to be disrespectful, but I asked one more time, “And you honestly believe that Ambres is a real spiritual entity?”
Birgitta turned to me as Lars smiled patie
ntly. “It’s almost impossible to explain to anyone who hasn’t the open-mindedness to at least consider it possible,” she said.
I peered out at the Stockholm countryside, pondering. I wondered how many other Swedes in their postcard-perfect houses were into spiritual exploration. Every corner, every house, every tree was a snow-covered postcard. The leather interior upholstery of Lars’s Volvo gave off a faint fresh smell. It was comfortable, modern, austerely luxurious. The Swedish houses were modern and clean, nothing opulent, but individualistic in their personalities, I thought. Sweden had its problems, but somehow seemed to be moving into the twenty-first century with a studied balance of socialism and democracy. I wondered if they would make it as time went on. I wondered how prevalent or deep their spiritual interests went. It was remarkable to me that a successful, high-powered advertising man would be driving me to a spiritual reading with a trance medium.
About ten miles outside of Stockholm we pulled into what looked like a quiet residential community. There were quaint street lamps at every corner. Sandboxes and swings decorated each line of condominiums which were built exactly alike, but were somehow individualized with flower boxes, snow men, and decorations fashioned by each family.
Lars stopped the car and I got out. I looked around at the look-alike community. “You know,” I said, “I’d probably walk into the wrong condominium at least once a week. It sort of forces you to look more carefully at the individuality of each house so you don’t make a mistake.”
Lars smiled. He and Birgitta led me to one of the condominiums and rang the bell. A cheerful female voice came from inside and soon a plump, rosy-cheeked woman opened the door and greeted us with a stream of Swedish.
“This is Turid,” said Lars. “She says she’s sorry she doesn’t speak English. She knows your movies and she is very happy you want to meet Ambres.”
Turid ushered us into her living room which looked like a Swedish version of a small place in the San Fernando Valley: a low, modern couch, bookshelves, a Tiffany-style lamp hanging over a smooth wooden modern coffee table. There were people sitting around the table. Spreading green ivy spilled from vases on the tables.
“Sturé made all his own furniture,” said Lars.
With Lars translating, Turid introduced me to her other friends as Shirley. She never mentioned my last name. After the initial pleasantries at her front door, it didn’t seem to matter to her.
“Sturé is resting,” she said. “He’ll be out from the bedroom in a moment.” She invited us to sit down and have some beer and cheese which was spread out on the handmade coffee table.
The three of us wolfed down some cheese and Swedish crackers. “Sture and Turid are devoting their lives now to bringing about spiritual communication,” said Lars. “But Turid is concerned that Sturé might be draining his energies with trance channeling, but they want to be helpful to as many people as possible.”
“Why?” I asked. “I mean, does that mean that Sturé has completely given up his regular work as a carpenter?”
“Close to it.”
“Well, where do they make enough money to live on?”
“People contribute what they feel is commensurate with what they learn from the channelings.”
So here was this Swedish carpenter who suddenly found a spiritual voice speaking through him giving up his regular life and work to help people by providing himself as an instrument for communication from a spiritual entity, very much like Edgar Cayce. Was this similar to what had happened with Moses and Abraham and some of the ancient prophets spoken of in the Bible? Were the same patterns occurring today that had happened then—only in modern-day terms?
“Why do they do it, Lars?” I asked.
“Well, they don’t know. They just feel they have to. They are aware that the world is deteriorating and they feel this is a way to provide spiritual knowledge to prevent that human course of action. I feel the same way, as a matter of fact. We listen to what Ambres says and it has changed the way we relate to our lives. I can make more positive and compassionate decisions when I know more about my purpose as a human being.”
The other people talked quietly among themselves, eating cheese and drinking beer. Some discussed occurrences in their lives. Others discussed spiritual truths that they said they didn’t quite understand.
I looked up. Sturé came quietly into the room. He was about five-foot-nine, solidly built with a stocky, sturdy walk and an even modulated voice. He seemed very shy, but his handshake was strong when Lars introduced us. He greeted me in Swedish. His face was extremely kind. He was about thirty-five. He stood around for a moment shyly greeting his other friends until Turid motioned that the two of them should sit. They sat side by side in hard-backed chairs with a glass of water on a table beside Turid.
“We must begin immediately,” she apologized, “because we have others to see later.”
She gently turned off the lights and lit a candle on the coffee table in the center of the room. Sturé sat quietly, seemingly preparing himself to relax.
“May we observe a few moments of silent meditation,” asked Turid.
We all bowed our heads and waited until Sturé was in the proper trance state for Ambres to come through.
As I sat in the candlelit darkness, I wondered what Gerry would think if he saw me. He was intrusive, and I deliberately concentrated on the candle. I had never been much for doing anything communally, usually preferring to do my own thing in private and in my own way, at my own pace. But in so many of the books I had been reading, it seemed that communal energy benefited everyone more than one’s individual energy. Certainly any performer or speaker knows about audience energy. And anyone who has been in a live audience has felt and shared in that community or feeling. As a matter of fact, the books said a positive collective energy apparently was much stronger, more intense, and more beneficial and healing in any human endeavor, according to the spiritual point of view. Presently I became aware of a sense of unity with the others in the room.
About ten silent minutes passed. My tape recorder purred quietly beside me. Lars sat directly over the recorder. He reminded me again that the ancient Swedish would be difficult to translate quickly. He said he would try to keep up.
I looked over at Sturé. He sat quietly, breathing deeply but calmly. His eyes were shut. His hands rested unmoving on his stocky thighs. His brown curly hair was cut just above the ears. I was conscious of focusing on small detail. After about fifteen minutes, he began to quiver slightly … quiver as though an electrical charge was surging through him. Turid took his hand, almost as though she was grounding him with a physical touch. She smiled. Lars whispered into my ear.
“Because of the electromagnetic energy of Ambres’ spiritual entity, Sturé needs Turid’s earthbound energy to neutralize his body. That’s why they need to work together.”
Sturé’s body suddenly became rigid and sat totally upright. His eyes opened. Then his head strained forward and cocked itself to one side. His whole body shook and when it stopped, he opened his mouth and said something in a guttural voice in Swedish. The voice didn’t sound anything like the man I had just been introduced to. Lars leaned over to me and whispered, “Ambres is saying, ‘Greetings’ and he is happy we have gathered together. He is identifying himself and he is giving us a reading on the level of spiritual energy in the room.”
I don’t know what I thought. I wanted to stop Lars and ask how such energy levels could be obtained by this Ambres, but before I could raise any questions, the session had already progressed into a dialogue between Ambres and the people who had come to learn from him.
Lars translated as quickly as he could. Then I realized that most of the people present were not interested in how it worked. They had already accepted the process. They were interested only in the “teachings” that Ambres was imparting. And from their questions it didn’t seem they were interested in past-life information or energy levels either. They were asking Ambres questions about the beginnin
g of Creation!
Lars tried to keep up with the translation. I tried to keep up with what was happening. In a swift but careful rhythm, Ambres talked. I say Ambres because it “felt” like Ambres. I felt certain that Sturé had nothing to do with it. He was only a kind of telephone through which some spiritual entity spoke. In fact, I could “feel” the personality, the humor, the ancient rhythm of the thoughts of this entity called Ambres. He gestured and laughed and made succinct and overt points with his own energy, not the energy of Sturé. At least, that’s what it “felt” like to me. His back was rigid and formal, not at all like the casual body movement of the man I had observed a half hour before.
Lars translated in capsulized statements as Ambres described God as Intelligence. He described the first stirrings of God’s thought and the creation of matter. He described the birth of worlds, and worlds within worlds; and universes, and universes within universes. He described God’s love for his creations and his need to receive love reflected in “feeling.” And he described God’s need to create Life.
I could see what Lars meant about the limitations of language, found myself identifying with how Ambres must have felt, saddled with the limitation of earth language!
About two hours passed. Lars continued to translate in generalized fashion. Ambres passed from the rise and fall of civilizations to the creation of the Great Pyramid, which appeared to have considerable significance and which he described as a “library in stone.” I somehow felt I could visualize what he was saying. The others in the room asked questions in Swedish and Ambres acknowledged that he realized there were other “entities” present who spoke only “another tongue,” but he said he was an ancient Swede and even if he could speak “other tongues,” the “instrument” could not do so comfortably. It would drain too much energy from him because of the strain to form words in a language he knew nothing about.
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