by Lee Carroll
CHAPTER FIVE
The Second House
It wasn’t long before Mike realized that there was a change at hand from what he was used to up to this point in this journey. Easily moving forward on this path, he never considered that there would be any kind of choice presented to him as to which way to go. In addition, he was perplexed by what he intuitively perceived was a feeling of being watched.
In the distance up ahead, he could clearly see a troubling situation developing—there was a fork in the road that would require him to choose the path that would take him to the next house.Mike shrugged his shoulders and stopped, staring at what was up ahead.
What is this? he thought to himself. How am I supposed to know my way around in this strange land of colored houses and angels? Mike didn’t expect any answers, since the questions were rhetorical and only for his own mind to hear, but he was bothered. Then he remembered the map.
He sat down along the side of the road. Mike had placed the map in the same bag with the bread and was about to retrieve it when he was almost knocked over by the smell emanating from the bag. What died in there? Mike said out loud to himself.
It smelled so bad that Mike almost didn’t want to see what was causing it. It was definitely an organic smell, so he guessed that the bread was responsible. He was right.
Mike gently removed the map from the bag, treating it as the precious gift that it was, and hoping that the smell had not somehow damaged the sacred but seemingly useless object. It came out in one piece but the bread did not. He emptied the contents of the bag on the ground and winced at what he saw.
There on the ground were the rotten remains of a bagel and bread sticks that looked like they had spent months hanging outside in a tropical rain forest. The putrid pieces were black with mold, and Mike saw the first and only insects of this truly strange land—and there were thousands of them. It looked like maggot city!Mike dropped the bag and stood up quickly. Bread isn’t carrion! Mike thought to himself. There is no dead flesh here! How can this be? In addition, I just left the blue house a few hours ago! Even rotting meat wouldn’t do this. What’s happening?
Holding his nose, Mike stooped and came in for a closer look. The black seething mass on the ground was continuing to age before his eyes. He watched as the small, disgusting creatures ate the rest of the abhorrent decomposing mess—and then each other! Mike was revolted by the sight and turned his head away from the loathsome vision when something caught his eye from behind.
Yes, there is something there! He knew he had seen something green and indistinct flee his gaze and take cover within the brush. Mike felt chills go up and down his spine. Intuitively, he knew the danger in going back to see what it was, so he remained. A fork in the road? An animal or creature or something perhaps following him? What is happening in this sacred place? And what about the bread?
Mike turned to again gape at the detestable mess he had dumped on the road and realized he was now looking at a pile of dust! No maggots, no bread, no smell. It had completely reverted to its basic origins, which were beginning to blow away with the gentle wind.
What was the meaning of this? Mike remembered that the angel had admonished him not to take any food, but he didn’t think it meant snacks for the road! Perhaps the items within the houses were somehow different and could not survive long on the path? He looked at the map with concern, picking it up carefully so as not to touch any lingering maggots. The map was pristine, just like when he had placed it in the bag. Mike didn’t understand. It had been resting alongside the food, yet it was unaffected. Mike attempted another test. He picked up the bag and hesitantly smelled it. There was no residue from the horrible odor that had permeated his senses a few minutes ago. He had no idea what had truly taken place, but he had learned a valuable lesson: He would never again remove food from any house along the path.
There was movement behind him again! Alarms were starting to go off in his head. Get moving! Mike felt desperate. He instinctively unrolled the map in the hopes that it would give him a hint as to which way to turn at the fork. There it was again on the map—the red YOU ARE HERE dot with nothing around it but his current status. The fork didn’t even show on the useless thing!
“Damn!” Mike exploded out loud.
Somehow the expletive was completely out of place in this land, but it reflected Mike’s frustration.
“Some map, Blue!”
Again, he detected movement in back of him. Was it getting closer? Why couldn’t he see it? How could it be so quick? What was it? By now, the sensors in Mike’s brain were on PANIC ALARM, and he quickly rose and walked forward, looking over his shoulder about every other step. The fleeting shape didn’t show itself when Mike’s eyes were looking behind him. How could it know exactly when Mike was going to look forward? Each time he did so, his pace quickened until he was actually speed walking. The presence behind him matched his pace. The quarter mile to the fork was covered faster than he had yet traveled in this puzzling land. Mike was afraid.
He quickly arrived at the fork, panting from the exertion of his fast pace—and his fear. He arrived at the crossroads without any inkling as to the direction he was to going to take, but now he was distraught with indecision. Mike stood motionless at the junction, heaving with panic, and he shouted to the clouds in desperation.
“Blue! Which way?”
Mike didn’t really expect to hear from Blue, so the gentle voice that seemed to emanate from within his head was a shock.
“Use the map, Michael. Quickly!”
Mike was in no mood to question either the strangeness of the request or the illogicality of it, since he had just done exactly that only moments earlier. With practiced speed, Mike again unfurled the map. The red YOU ARE HERE dot was seemingly right where it used to be. It never moved, remaining always in the center of the map. But what was this? Mike peered closer, with drops of sweat falling on the parchment.
The dot now showed the fork! Since he was actually standing at the crossroads, the map was now current. Mike’s mind didn’t stop to take in the humor of the angel’s meaning of the word. He looked closer. In addition to the fork, there was now an arrow clearly pointing to the right!
Mike didn’t hesitate. While rolling up the map, he scampered to the right and made his way up a small hill. He continued looking backward at almost every opportunity, sensing, knowing, that there was a pursuer just out of sight. The green blur flitted between rock and bush, keeping pace with Mike’s increase in speed. Just over the rise, Mike sighed in relief. In the distance, he saw another house! He felt that salvation was at hand. While his eyes continually darted behind him, Mike picked up the pace and ran down the path to where he knew he would find safety, refuge—and food.
The dark and vile entity behind Mike was mad! Had Mike hesitated much longer on the road, IT would have caught him! IT seethed with rage at the missed opportunity and took ITs place high in the trees just outside a brightly colored orange house that Michael Thomas had just entered. There, the repugnant entity patiently waited. It would be a long wait. IT didn’t care.
JUST INSIDE THE DOOR of the orange house stood the expected angel. Michael was practically bowled over when “Orange,” as Mike decided to call him, spoke his first words.
“Greetings, Michael Thomas of Pure Intent! We have been expecting you.”
“Greetings back to you!” Michael hoped he didn’t sound as relieved and out of breath as he actually was. His voice had quivered. He had to restrain himself from hugging the huge orange entity that now stood in front of him. He was so glad to be protected again.
“Come this way,” stated his orange host, as he turned and led Mike into the “HOUSE OF GIFTS AND TOOLS.” Mike made certain the door was closed. He followed, still shaking and out of breath from the experience he’d had only moments before. He was still frightened and filled with more questions than ever about this land of perplexing contrasts.
As before, this angel was magnificent. Again, Mike was imp
ressed by how large the being was, and by the kindness he felt. This entity made him feel as welcomed and loved as the others he had so far encountered. I guess they’re all made of the same stuff, he mused to himself.
“Actually, we are all in the same family,” said the angel.
Mike was mortified that he had so quickly forgotten how the communication worked around these spiritual creatures.
“I’m sorry,” was the only thing that Mike could blurt out. Orange turned and stopped. He cocked his head to one side in a quizzical manner. Mike looked into his face.
“Sorry?” He paused. “For complimenting me on my magnificence? For feeling loved? For wondering who we are?” The angel smiled. “We get many guests, Michael Thomas. Of the many who visit this second house, so far you have asked the fewest questions.”
“The day is young,” Mike replied, sighing. He wanted to ask the angel about the fear and panic of the last few moments. What was following him? The angel knew the question was coming.
“I cannot tell you what you wish to know, Michael,” the angel stated.
“Can’t, or won’t?” asked Mike respectfully. He knew the question was rhetorical and continued, “I know that you know.” Mike hesitated and then tried posing questions at a rapid-fire rate.
“Why can’t you tell me about it?” he queried.
“You know more about it than I do,” the angel replied.
“How can that be?”
“Not all is as it seems here.”
“Will it be there when I exit?”
“Yes.”
“Does it belong here? It seems out of place in this spiritual setting.”
“It has the same right to be here as you do.”
“Can it hurt me?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a defense?”
“Yes.”
“Will you help me?”
“That is why I am here.” The angel stood quietly as Mike suddenly stopped his inquiry.
The angel’s answers confirmed to Mike that Orange knew everything. He began to relax. If he knows, then there is potentially more for me to know,Mike thought to himself. I will be patient. I’m certain more will be shown as I go. It seems to be the way of things here.Michael suddenly remembered how useless he thought the map was not more than an hour ago, and how it had saved him at the moment he needed it.
“God is very current, you know,” said the angel, almost laughing. He was once again tuning in to the thoughts of Michael Thomas. The orange one turned and began to lead Michael into the inner areas of the house. Michael followed.
“I’m getting used to it,” said Mike as he walked. “It’s what you need only at the point you need it?”
“Something like that,” replied the angel. “The lower vibrational human time frame is linear, Michael.” The angel was a obviously another teacher. “Angelic time is not.”
“So how do YOU perceive time?” As they spoke, Michael was being led through a warehouse. A warehouse? Like the previous house, the internal portion of this one was titanic. Mike’s jaw dropped as he observed dozens of rows of stacked crates within a room with a ceiling that had to be 50 feet high.
“We don’t have a past or future,” replied the angel. “Your concept of time travels on a straight track, and ours is a turntable rotating clockwise with the engine at rest. We can always see the full extent of our track, since it is always beneath us, and therefore we are always in the ‘now’ of our time. Our motion is always around a known center. Because your track is straight, and you are in forward motion, you never get to fully experience the present. You look behind you and see where you have been. You look forward and see where you are going. You are never allowed to experience a BEING type of existence. Instead, you experience a DOING existence. It is part of your lower vibration, and it is appropriate for your dimension.”
“That would explain your map,” said Michael, remembering that the red YOU ARE HERE dot was always in the middle, and that the events of his new existence seemed to move in and out of one spot. Mike thought to himself, It’s exactly the opposite of a human map.
“Correct!” said Orange over his shoulder as he continued to lead. “In your time frame, the map is known, and the human moves. That’s because you perceive time and reality as a constant, and the human is the variable. When you move closer to our vibration and time frame, the human entity is the known constant and the map, or reality, is the variable.”
Mike had to really think about this one. It was confusing, but somehow familiar. His experience at the fork outside the orange house had shown him the value of his spiritual map, even if it was different from what he had expected. He knew that the next time he had a choice of that nature, he wouldn’t worry about it until he actually got to the fork—then the map would work.
As Blue had, Orange led Mike in and out of many beautiful and ornate areas on their way to a place of refuge, sustenance, and rest. This grand house, however, contained crates with names on them instead of cubbyholes with names on them as was the case in the House of Maps. Again, the names were mostly in that strange Arabic lettering and unreadable to Mike, but he assumed correctly that somewhere there was a crate with his name on it and that he would know soon enough.
“These are your quarters,” stated Orange. “Tomorrow we will begin. Your meals will be served in the room to the left. You may wash in the room to the right. A meal has been prepared for you.” With that statement, Orange closed the door to Mike’s room and left.
Mike stared at the closed door. You might be an angel, but your social graces leave a lot to be desired, Mike thought to himself regarding the lack of a farewell gesture. I guess I can’t expect them to understand human nature completely.
Mike dined sumptuously, as before. He wolfed down the delicious food and marveled at the handcrafted wooden utensils. He felt odd to be leaving his dirty dishes for someone else to clean, but then he remembered how much he hated that task. He knew that even though he could not see them, there had to be other entities here with the angel to take care of such things. What an odd combination, Mike contemplated. A place that is angelic, but which had to cater to those on a lower human vibration as well.
Mike started to wonder about the sewer system, and then was struck by an amazing revelation: He hadn’t been to the bathroom for days! There WAS no toilet! There had been areas of water for bathing, but nothing else. He realized that he hadn’t felt the human “call of nature” since he had passed through the gate! Something was happening to his body in this surprising land. He didn’t mind eliminating... elimination, but it was an odd feeling indeed.
IN THE MORNING Mike felt invigorated. He dined alone on a breakfast of fresh fruit and breads and savored the awesome taste of this wonderful meal. He examined the angelic food and realized that it was somehow different. He would ask Orange about it, he thought.
“It’s in our time frame,” said a cheerful Orange from the open door of his room. The angel had just arrived and had overheard Mike’s thoughts. The angel continued, “It cannot exist in a lower vibration and contains spiritual attributes that are interdimensional. That is why there is no human waste, Michael, and that is why it cannot be stored. It knows no future or past. It was created moments before you ate it and will not survive if you try to take it from this place.”
“So I discovered,” said Mike, remembering the disgusting mess on the road to the Orange house that almost got him into trouble.
The angel led Mike out of the living quarters and into a large circular well-lit arena. Several crates were laid open, and a few orange benches were available for humans to rest upon. There were other preparations as well: what appeared to be an altar, some incense, and some odd-looking packages.
“Welcome to the House of Gifts and Tools, Michael Thomas of Pure Intent,” said the angel as he faced Mike. “Please take a seat. You will spend much time here.”
This was the beginning of a long series of teaching sessions. It was to be followed by an e
ven longer period spent on practice/testing sessions with respect to the use of the gifts and tools on a new spiritual vibration. Before Mike was finished, he would spend more than three weeks in this orange house.
“You are slowly raising your vibration, Michael Thomas,” Orange repeatedly stated throughout the learning process. “These are the promised gifts and tools to help you accomplish that task. They are yours due to your intent. You cannot enter the next houses without knowledge of how all of these work, and you absolutely cannot go home unless you are skilled in their use.”
Mike paid attention. He knew this was preparation for home, and he remembered being told that this training would be coming. Orange unwrapped many gifts as Michael watched. Some were seemingly made of magnificent crystal, and through ceremony and intent, they were magically placed into Mike’s body to complement his spiritual power. Each was explained thoroughly, and Mike was given time to digest what each one meant. He was then asked to explain to Orange what they were for. This was not easy, for much of the testing required speaking about concepts and using words that were brand new to Mike.
Orange spoke of how humans came into the planet carrying certain qualities that pertained to different realms of existence—other lifetimes in the past. Mike had heard of this, but he was not prepared to hear it from an angel! He expected that some day a long haired Indian guru might broach the subject, but an angel? Past lives were a staple of humanism, Orange would tell him, and the instructions from a past life were carried in to a new one as lessons at birth. These lessons were called “karma,” or, as some called it, “remembrance” and “experience.” The karma allowed for human learning, and also somehow helped the planet. This was the way things worked for humans life after life. Orange told Mike that in order to move into a new vibration, he had to remove some of the older qualities, such as the karmic lessons he had been born with. The path home would not allow for them—any more than they did for the rotten food he had experienced on the road.
