August 25th 1966
This is the keeper of the stone. I have been so very near to you of late and yet, in your thoughts, you have felt a little lonely, and you have felt that I have not been so close to you. This is true, is it not?
I felt your loneliness and your feeling of longing.
I felt that you would have held my hand or seen my figure with your physical eyes. This is understandable. But at these times we are nearer to you than you will ever know. Because we sense your desire, and because we are servants, we long to serve. And we would that you could see us with your physical eyes and hear us with your ears.
But, I know of your feeling and of your thoughts, and and we have the inner ear which belongs exclusively to yourself, and into this we talk, and you hear. You have the inner vision and this you use and you can see us more plainly than you could if you could see us with your eyes.
O my child, thou hast opened up thy heart to us and we are ever here to guide, to protect. And we are aware of your very sadness for the sick and the suffering around. But great will be your joy when you see these same little ones in the full bloom of healthy life and you will see their true beauty, their true character. There will be not spot or blemish on those of your friends who have remained humble and true. Even though they have no great religious knowledge, even though they are ignorant of great learning, but their simple lives, their simple gifts, their courage in everyday life, their patience, will bring their own reward.
And so, beloved of my heart, I see you too as you really are. I crave not for physical eyes. To see with a clear vision is indeed a blessing. And I see those you love, and those you are trying to help with this clear vision. And I see them as they will be in a very short time, full of beauty, full of grace.
I would comfort you, I would bring you that peace which passeth all understanding. I would take from your body and from your mind app pain, all the anguish, all suffering. But your experience is actually a blessing, and very soon we shall meet in a quiet garden as we have met so many times in the sleep state, but always you had to return.
But the wonderful day will dawn, when, together with those you love, with friends you have never spoken to upon the Earth plane, men and women who walked the Earth centuries ago, these are your friends. We give the same reasons for this Earth visit. For there is a plan. There is a purpose, a good reason for everything. Surely now that you have made your way through the narrow gate and wait awhile, you can see further. Further to the north, to the west, to the east, and to the south. In one part there are people of like nature, in the other also. Where you stand with your kind, with those on the same vibration in the centre, and you can see all things around you. We are aware that there are things you see that cause your heart to ache, but at the same time keep that inner calm, that inner light, that quiet faith.
For, in very truth, God is love. All is well. Thou art That.
This transcript answers something very personal — a felt absence, a longing to see and touch the spirit guide physically, met with reassurance that the inner ear and inner eye see and hear "more plainly" than the physical senses could. The guide's own longing to be seen and heard in the flesh is offered back honestly, not dismissed — a mutual, tender ache rather than a one-sided comfort.
Its central promise is a change of vision rather than a change of circumstance: the sick and suffering, seen now with grief, will one day be seen "in the full bloom of healthy life," their true character without blemish — and this same clear sight is already how the guide sees them, and the one they're speaking to, right now. The suffering witnessed in the meantime is called, gently, "actually a blessing," not because it doesn't hurt, but because it doesn't have the final word.
"Thou art That" returns once more, now simply, without further explanation needed — the recurring core teaching of these transcripts, arrived at here as quiet reassurance rather than argument.