Gardens of Flowers in the Afterlife

After awhile, our progress seemed to slow, and I could feel solid ground under my feet. My friend told me to open my eyes, so I did so. I was surprised to see the old home I had lived in on Earth. But it was improved in a way that I had not been able to do to it while on Earth. The house was rejuvenated rather than restored.

The gardens around it must full attracted my attention. They were quite extensive and in a state of most perfect order and beautifully arranged. By this, I do not mean the regular orderliness that one is accustomed to seeing in public gardens on Earth. They were beautifully kept and tended. There were no wild growths or masses of tangled foliage and weeds. Instead, there were the most glorious beds of beautiful flowers arranged to show themselves in absolute perfect beauty. I had never seen such a profusion of flowers, every one in full bloom. I saw some old familiar blossoms, but by far, most seemed to be stunning varieties entirely new to me.

It wasn’t just that the flowers had superb color, but they were also exuding a vital atmosphere of eternal life that filled the air. When I walked over to a group of flowers, or even a single bloom, the flowers seemed to pour out great streams of energizing power that uplifted my soul spiritually and gave my inner being strength. At the same time, they exhaled heavenly perfumes far more pleasurable than any fragrances on Earth. All these flowers were living and breathing, with no wilted leaves or dead petals. My friend told me the flowers never wither or die. There was another astonishing feature I noticed when I came close to them. I heard music that enveloped them. The soft harmonies perfectly matched the gorgeous colors of the flowers themselves. Everywhere there was perfect harmony.

This heavenly garden had a revitalizing effect on me, and I was anxious to see more of it. So I walked with my old friend along the garden paths, walking on the exquisite grass, whose resilience and softness were almost like walking on air. I had a hard time believing all this superlative beauty was part of my own home.

The Beautiful Trees Around the House

There were many splendid trees around the house, none of which were malformed, but there was no strict uniformity of pattern. It was simply that each tree was growing under perfect conditions, free from the winds and storms that bend and twist the young branches, free from insect infestations, and free of other causes of the misshapenness of earthly trees. As with the flowers, the trees live forever, incorruptible, clothed always in their full array of leaves of every shade of green, and forever pouring out revitalizing life to all who approach them.

There did not seem to be shade beneath the trees, and there did not seem to be any glaring sun. It seemed that there was a radiant light that penetrated every corner, and even without shadows, there was no feeling that everything was flat. My friend told me that all light proceeded directly from the Giver of all light, and that this light was Divine life itself that bathed and illumined the whole of the spirit world.

The Environment in the Afterlife

There was a comfortable, even warmth, with gentle perfume-laden breezes that didn’t cool the balmy temperature. And here let me say that even if you do not care much for perfumes of any sort, wait until you experience these things; I know that then you will feel very differently about them. I have gone into all these things in some detail because I am sure many people have wondered about them.

I was struck by the fact that there were no signs of walls or hedges or fences; indeed, nothing, so far as I could see, to mark where my garden began or ended. I was told that such things as boundaries were not needed, because each person knew instinctively, but beyond doubt, just where his own garden ended. There was therefore no encroaching upon another’s grounds, although they were open to any who wished to traverse them or linger within them. I was wholeheartedly welcome to go wherever I wished without fear of intruding upon another’s privacy. I was told that was the rule here, and that I would have no different feelings toward others walking in my own garden. I felt, then and there, that all who cared would come into the garden and its beauties. I had no notions whatever of personal ownership, although I knew that it was my own to have and to hold. And that is precisely the attitude of all here — ownership and partnership at one and the same time.

Our Afterlife World Is Given to Us

Seeing the beautiful state of preservation and care in which the garden was kept, I asked my friend who the genius was who looked after it so assiduously and with such splendid results. Before answering my question, he suggested that, as I had but so very recently arrived in the spirit land, he considered it advisable I should rest, or that at least I should not overdo my sightseeing. He suggested that we find a pleasant spot to sit. He used the words “pleasant spot” in a comparative sense, because all was extremely pleasant everywhere. He was suggesting that we should sit and then would explain one or two of the many questions that had occurred to me in the brief time since I had passed to spirit.

Accordingly, we walked along until we found such a pleasant place beneath the branches of a magnificent tree, where we overlooked a great tract of the countryside, whose rich green texture undulated before us and stretched far away into the distance. The whole scene was bathed in glorious celestial sunshine, and I noticed many houses of varying descriptions, picturesquely situated among trees and gardens. We threw ourselves down upon the soft turf, and I stretched myself out luxuriously, feeling as though I was lying upon a bed of the finest lawn. My friend asked me if I was tired. I had no ordinary sensation of earthly fatigue, yet I felt like I wanted to relax. He told me that my last illness was the cause of such a desire, and that if I wished, I could pass into a state of complete sleep. At the moment, however, I did not feel the absolute need for that, and I told him that for the present I would much prefer to hear him talk. And so he began.

‘“Whatsoever a man soweth,”’ he said, “‘that shall he reap.” He continued, “Those few words describe exactly the great eternal process by which all that you see, actually here before you, is brought about. All the trees, the flowers, the woods, the houses that are also the happy homes of happy people — everything is the visible result of ‘whatsoever a man soweth.’ This land you and I are now living in is the land of the great harvest, the seeds of which were planted upon the earth plane. All who live here have won for themselves the precise abode they have passed to by their deeds upon the earth.”

He said, “Both the house and the garden were the harvest I had reaped for myself during my earthly life. I had earned the right to possess them, and they were built with the aid of generous souls who spend their lives in the spirit world performing such deeds of kindness and service to others. Not only was it their work, but it was their pleasure at the same time. Frequently, this work is undertaken and carried out by those who, on Earth, were experts in gardening and who also had a love for gardening. Here, they continue their occupation under conditions that only the world of spirit can supply. Such tasks bring their own spiritual rewards, although the thought of reward is never in the minds of those who perform them. The desire to be of service to others is always uppermost.”

The Gardener Who Created the Gardens

My friend told me that the man who had helped to bring this beautiful garden into being was a lover of gardens upon the earth-plane, and, as I could see for myself, he was also an expert. But once the garden was created, there was not the incessant toil that is necessary for its upkeep, as with large gardens upon earth. It is the constant decay, the stresses of storm and wind, and several other causes that demand the labor on earth. Here, there is no decay, and all that grows does so under the same conditions as we exist. I was told that the garden would need practically no attention, as we usually understand the term, and that our friend the gardener would still keep it under his care if I so wished it. Far from merely wishing it, I expressed the hope that he certainly would do so. I voiced my deep gratitude for his wonderful work, and I hoped that I might be able to meet him and convey to him my sincere appreciation and thanks. My friend explained that that was quite a simple matter, and that the reason why I had not already met him was the fact of my very recent arrival, and that he would not intrude until I had made myself quite at home.