The Pact
A warm summer evening. Cruzin’ round the bright lights of Appleton, Wisconsin. Two 23-year olds on the prowl. Me, for a banana split or some Baskin-Robbin creation that I insisted needed hot fudge, not chocolate syrup. (And whipped cream, nuts, and the cherry). He, for much loftier mind-game pursuits. He wanted to talk about the moon and the stars. Why we are here. And the purpose of life and much, much more. T here was a “something” in the air that night. We both felt it. An alert of some kind of inner awakening. He did not want to miss it. But I didn’t necessarily want to talk as much as I wanted to indulge my very long sweet tooth. It was summer; ice cream sounded just right.
The drab-olive green Maverick probably lurched a bit on the road. It always needed oil. It was my dear first car, and I was never 100% sure it would take me where I wanted to go. Sometimes the engine overheated, and this bag of bolts definitely needed some serious tending. Whether we stopped so Lil’ Mav could guzzle a quart or more has long since been forgotten. But when we stopped at a stoplight and the oil light blinked bright, we started to discuss what to do about the oil, the ice cream, and the purpose of creation when he turned to her and said, “I don’t want to die yet. I have so much more I want to accomplish.” The need for ice cream instantly dissolved. I blinked back and said, “I feel the same. We’re too young. I hope we have more time”
He gulped a big lung-full of air, a very characteristic move when he was in a deep-think, and he prepared to launch into something to talk about that had incredible depth.
This story wants to get to the ending first, because the stuff is unlike anything else you might have read. True story, but not any kind of romance novel. It is a love story—but what is meant by that needs you to ‘stay tuned.’
I responded, my heart beating fast then slow then inconsistent, “I know what you mean. I wonder what Heaven is like. Why don’t we have a pact?—Let’s agree that whoever goes first will work real hard to come back to the other and tell what we found. Tell the other what it’s like there.”
“Okay.” With one of his serious looks, he said, “Ya. Let’s do it.” We were both solemn. More than a pinkie-swear. More than a sworn loyalty as a brother and sister. This was a fervent declaration of heart-companion-friendship. And a declaration we have both followed through on.
The story is a journey of heart-to-heart connection spanning 50 years; it began the summer we were both 23 and continues to this day, now eleven years since his death. He was 62 years old when he died, and I recently turned 73. Both of us are married, and both of us have one daughter.
The real meat of this story is his exploration of the lands he traveled there. And most especially, the fascinating/scintillating messages and clarifications he has brought forth. The contents well may surprise you, get you to reframe lots of beliefs, and might just change your perspective of why it is important to prepare for the eventuality of death, not to mention a few tips about how.
He has a message from “beyond” that is timely and timeless. And I am the scribe bringing it forth through automatic writing.
Three days after his passing, he appeared to me (see The Story of Two Friends section). I began receiving small bits from him for his wife and daughter and me, my husband and our daughter. Kem referred to these as “KeyMails.”
January 18, 2014, nearly one and a half years after his passing, he began to pour forth much more information. He told me he had been studying—history, about the spirit lands, about himself. And he wanted to bring this information through.
I had been channeling and doing automatic writing since the mid-1980s, and at his death was familiar with the process. I remembered at the time of “the pact” in 1973, the world was singing Stevie Wonder’s, “You are the Sunshine of My Life” and Paul McCartney/Wings’ classic, “My Love.”
Although he needed specific coaching on how to come through, my guide worked with him to bring forth his message. He eventually was able to do this by himself. Ever the Scholar and Researcher when on earth, he was passionate about learning whatever possible in the spirit lands. He tells parts of his story. He tells something about the me and my guide, Percivel. But mostly, he began painting pictures of life on the other side of the “veil.” Funny thing, I used to talk about my guide a lot. He scoffed at some of the ideas, some of the “revelations” and information. And sometimes he made fun of the whole process of channeling.
He learned a lot by doing this, and how then began to bring the core of his message through on many levels: ‘Divine’ Yourself.
This is a story of many dialogues and even more monologues (KeyMails and some “KemMails”) to bring forth information. He includes his own questions, along with some of the answers he found. Some things will blow out of the water some long and hard concepts about death. And about life, on the other side.
The Pact
A warm summer evening. Cruzin’ round the bright lights of Appleton, Wisconsin. Two 23-year olds on the prowl. Me, for a banana split or some Baskin-Robbin creation that I insisted needed hot fudge, not chocolate syrup. (And whipped cream, nuts, and the cherry). He, for much loftier mind-game pursuits. He wanted to talk about the moon and the stars. Why we are here. And the purpose of life and much, much more. T here was a “something” in the air that night. We both felt it. An alert of some kind of inner awakening. He did not want to miss it. But I didn’t necessarily want to talk as much as I wanted to indulge my very long sweet tooth. It was summer; ice cream sounded just right.
The drab-olive green Maverick probably lurched a bit on the road. It always needed oil. It was my dear first car, and I was never 100% sure it would take me where I wanted to go. Sometimes the engine overheated, and this bag of bolts definitely needed some serious tending. Whether we stopped so Lil’ Mav could guzzle a quart or more has long since been forgotten. But when we stopped at a stoplight and the oil light blinked bright, we started to discuss what to do about the oil, the ice cream, and the purpose of creation when he turned to her and said, “I don’t want to die yet. I have so much more I want to accomplish.” The need for ice cream instantly dissolved. I blinked back and said, “I feel the same. We’re too young. I hope we have more time”
He gulped a big lung-full of air, a very characteristic move when he was in a deep-think, and he prepared to launch into something to talk about that had incredible depth.
This story wants to get to the ending first, because the stuff is unlike anything else you might have read. True story, but not any kind of romance novel. It is a love story—but what is meant by that needs you to ‘stay tuned.’
I responded, my heart beating fast then slow then inconsistent, “I know what you mean. I wonder what Heaven is like. Why don’t we have a pact?—Let’s agree that whoever goes first will work real hard to come back to the other and tell what we found. Tell the other what it’s like there.”
“Okay.” With one of his serious looks, he said, “Ya. Let’s do it.” We were both solemn. More than a pinkie-swear. More than a sworn loyalty as a brother and sister. This was a fervent declaration of heart-companion-friendship. And a declaration we have both followed through on.
The story is a journey of heart-to-heart connection spanning 50 years; it began the summer we were both 23 and continues to this day, now eleven years since his death. He was 62 years old when he died, and I recently turned 73. Both of us are married, and both of us have one daughter.
The real meat of this story is his exploration of the lands he traveled there. And most especially, the fascinating/scintillating messages and clarifications he has brought forth. The contents well may surprise you, get you to reframe lots of beliefs, and might just change your perspective of why it is important to prepare for the eventuality of death, not to mention a few tips about how.
He has a message from “beyond” that is timely and timeless. And I am the scribe bringing it forth through automatic writing.
Three days after his passing, he appeared to me (see The Story of Two Friends section). I began receiving small bits from him for his wife and daughter and me, my husband and our daughter. Kem referred to these as “KeyMails.”
January 18, 2014, nearly one and a half years after his passing, he began to pour forth much more information. He told me he had been studying—history, about the spirit lands, about himself. And he wanted to bring this information through.
I had been channeling and doing automatic writing since the mid-1980s, and at his death was familiar with the process. I remembered at the time of “the pact” in 1973, the world was singing Stevie Wonder’s, “You are the Sunshine of My Life” and Paul McCartney/Wings’ classic, “My Love.”
Although he needed specific coaching on how to come through, my guide worked with him to bring forth his message. He eventually was able to do this by himself. Ever the Scholar and Researcher when on earth, he was passionate about learning whatever possible in the spirit lands. He tells parts of his story. He tells something about the me and my guide, Percivel. But mostly, he began painting pictures of life on the other side of the “veil.” Funny thing, I used to talk about my guide a lot. He scoffed at some of the ideas, some of the “revelations” and information. And sometimes he made fun of the whole process of channeling.
He learned a lot by doing this, and how then began to bring the core of his message through on many levels: ‘Divine’ Yourself.
This is a story of many dialogues and even more monologues (KeyMails and some “KemMails”) to bring forth information. He includes his own questions, along with some of the answers he found. Some things will blow out of the water some long and hard concepts about death. And about life, on the other side.