PART ONE Chapter Five

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

After I'd served my apprenticeship in Vancouver, the guides started moving me around the country. They weren't ones for giving me much notice either. Generally I'd get just a couple of hours warning.

One Thursday morning, for example, I was eating breakfast when the thought came, "You're going to the prairies." I didn't really know whether to believe it or not, but my confirmation came in the form of a horoscope, of all things. I seldom look at the horoscopes in the paper, but just for the heck of it, right after the thought about the prairies, I turned to the thing and there under Libra, it said, "Travel plans are known by those in high places. It's time you should know." I just said "Wow!". I mean, there was somebody talking to me. When I got home that evening, I told Sharon, "I get the feeling that I'm supposed to go to Saskatoon." She agreed with me, that my feeling was right, then surprised me by saying she felt I should go to Regina as well.

So the next morning she drove me to the airport just as if I was going on a business trip.

I walked into the ticket counter, and you know, I really shouldn't have been able to get on, on such short notice, but there I was, ticket in hand getting on the plane. Now, the people I was sitting beside told me that this was ‘the' flight to take, to get to Saskatoon. It had a meal and so on. Most people preferred this flight over the others.

"You're lucky to get on this flight," they said. And I agreed. I guess I got really lucky all right.

On the flight, I talked with a teacher from Saskatoon, and left her with the message. When I arrived I had a feeling that I should go get a car from Budget. So I walked up to the desk, thinking maybe I'd get one of those neat Monte Carlos. But a countering thought came in and told me to ask for a ‘Cutlass' instead. So I did, and was told they didn't have one. I asked her to check again, and sure enough they did have one. But she said it was going back to Regina, and besides, it was reserved. Then she asked, "Is your name Pauls?"

Well, there it was. And you know, I hadn't reserved it.

When I left the airport with the car, I just drove around for a while. Then I asked out loud, "Why do I have this car?" And right away the answer came.

"There are two hitch-hikers just outside of town. Pick them up." Well, I countered that thought and asked again why I had the car. I could have taken the train, or the bus, or even flown to Regina, so why the car? And again I clearly got, "two hitch-hikers, just outside of town. You are to pick them up."

So I checked into a motel for the night and the next morning I left for Regina. Just as I took the turn-off to Regina, there on the side of the road were my two hitch-hikers, pack sacks and all, and right on schedule.

They told me they were hitching across the country from Vancouver. One of them was from Nakusp, in the interior of British Columbia, and the other said he was from Montreal. They said that they hadn't planned to come to Saskatoon, but a ride the day before brought them northeast to Saskatoon, rather than straight east to Regina.

"Well, I was supposed to pick you guys up," I said. And we talked all the way to Regina and I told them the story. When I came to the Trans Canada highway in Regina we shook hands and parted company. End of mission, I was told, turn in the car and fly home.

These trips were like training flights. Sometimes there were contacts to be made; sometimes it would be a dry run in order to rehearse a new move, so to speak. Like I was being trained to accept direction as I went along. To go on faith without the whole itinerary layed out.

One of these dry run trips took me to Prince George. In fact, I got only a couple of hours notice that I would be going, and I was blissfully unaware that I was heading into one of the busiest periods that Prince George had seen. I arrived right in the middle of the B.C. Winter Games when there are thousands of athletes there from all over the province. But that wasn't all. The federal Liberals were having a meeting of some sort there too and the Prime Minister and many of his cabinet colleagues were there. Now, add to that the corps from the media and you've got a pretty busy time.

When I got off the plane, I got a feeling to follow one group of people as they got on the airport bus. They got off at the Inn of the North, the major hotel there. So I joined the line up waiting to check in. As the line moved, I could hear people without reservations being turned away, told that the hotel was booked. I persisted anyway. After all, it wouldn't cost anything to ask for a room.

When it came to my turn I asked for a room and the reply came, ‘Do you have a reservation sir?" I said that I didn't, but instead of turning me away, she just looked at me for a moment, then walked back toward the office. After a few moments, she returned with a key and asked me to fill in the register. I had a room.

After I settled in, I came back to the lobby and it was even wilder than when I'd left it. And they were still turning away people, some of whom had reservations. It was rather an incredible scene, and into it all marched the Prime Minister's entourage complete with cabinet ministers, press corps and all their paraphernalia.

Despite all this high powered talent around me, I had no feeling to contact anyone. I was told that I was simply on a trip to learn not to doubt direction no matter how impossible the odds seemed. Anybody could have simply walked away from the line up after over hearing what I had about the lack of rooms. But I was shown that even the most apparently solid barriers can evaporate if something has to be accomplished. I was told that what I had to add to the mix was faith, that everything would work out.

Another question I had about it all concerned the reason for my being in the midst of the governing powers of the land, and nary a contact. The answer back was that, "What you were shown was the government of the past, the government that will have once been." In terms of what I was dealing with, it was the system of the old age. That in my terms it was no longer a power.

These guides of mine would go to some pretty startling lengths sometimes to keep me on track, despite what I wanted to do. It happened during one of those weekend, whirlwind trips around British Columbia.

I had taken the train, day coach, from Prince George to Terrace. Only the day coach ride was overnight so I didn't get much sleep on the trip. I arrived in Terrace early on a Sunday morning and decided I'd check into a hotel to catch a couple of hours sleep. Then I planned to take the evening flight back to Vancouver. I'd been traveling for a couple of days up to this point and I just wanted to get home.

Following that plan though, I thought I could do whatever it was I had to do in Terrace, then make it home that evening. I should have caught the clue when I tried to call the airline and book my flight, but I didn't. I called three times, and three times they answered. But each time they couldn't hear me. I just figured it was the phone system, because it worked on the next call I made to Vancouver, to Sharon, to tell her that I'd be home on the evening flight, about six.

Next I called my brother, Pete, who lives in Terrace and arranged to visit with him for the afternoon, and bring him up to date on what I'd been doing lately. Well, he picked me up after I'd had a few hours sleep, and we spent the afternoon talking about all of this stuff. Around four o'clock, I asked him to drive me to the airport. I told him about the problem with the phone and that I would just buy the ticket out there.

The plane was due to arrive at five o'clock. We got out there about ten after four, and after I got my ticket we spent the rest of the time talking. Just about the time the plane should have arrived, it was announced over the loudspeaker that because of a problem, the plane was unable to land at Terrace and had been directed over to Prince Rupert. The plan was, they announced, to bus everyone to Rupert where they could board the plane to Vancouver. That would add about three hours to the trip.

Just as the buses pulled up to the terminal I said to Pete, "I really feel bad about this. I feel like Jonah on that boat causing all that trouble for the other people because he wasn't where he was supposed to be. I think I'll cancel my flight. Change it over to tomorrow instead. I feel to blame for all of this." So I canceled my flight and Pete drove me back to his house for dinner. It was now about a quarter after five. At about five-thirty I called Sharon to tell her I wasn't coming. She told me that moments before my call she'd checked with the airline which told her that the flight would be delayed half an hour to forty-five minutes, that's all.

That's strange. So I told my brother, who then called the airport to find out what was going on. When he hung up he said, "Guess what, the plane is on the ground here, right now, loading up for Vancouver." They had told him that one of the navigation beacons they needed for an instrument approach had suddenly quit working at ten after four. Not only that, but just as abruptly, it had come back on again at five fifteen. It wasn't as if it had been fixed, because it was in a remote location up on a mountain somewhere. Since the beacon was working again they decided to bring the plane back rather that bus all the way to Rupert.

Well, you should have seen Pete's wife. She was astounded. She said, "Now I'll believe anything." After all, this sort of thing was what we'd been talking about all afternoon, and now it had come home.

I had my brother drive me back to the hotel and I checked in again. I just had the feeling that there were people to see. And staying at his house wouldn't facilitate that. And that's what happened. I made three connections that evening. Then the next day, I connected again on the flight home.

Here's how complex it gets. The flight the night before was a direct flight, Vancouver to Terrace and back to Vancouver. The flight I was now on made the more usual triangle route, Vancouver to Terrace to Prince Rupert, and then back to Vancouver. It was on the Prince Rupert leg that I connected with a businessman from that city. Talk about circles within circles within circles, eh?

PART ONE Chapter Four

LAST WEEK I WOULD HAVE SAID YOU WERE CRAZY

One afternoon, our family stopped in at a restaurant and everyone else waiting for a table was seated by a waitress. When it came to our turn, the manager came over and directed us to a table. There didn't seem anything unusual in that in itself, but when he got us seated, he stood there for a few moments and told us a little about his life. Now it was getting a little peculiar. Then he took one of our menus and turned it over and pointed at a picture on the back. It was a picture of the restaurant when it was full of people.

There was the partial profile of a man in the one side of it, not enough to identify anyone from, but he pointed to it and said, "That's me." I', in the picture." Just as he said that, I got a flash sort of amplifying the phrase, "I'm in the picture" and it came to me.

"Yup! He's in the picture." After that he left us and went back into his office. He didn't bother with any other patrons. Sometimes I would be shown people without making the contact right away. I'd have to wait, to bide my time until I got the word that the contact was ready for the message. When everything was right the command would come, "Now".

Another delayed contact involved one of my neighbors in New Westminster. I really didn't know them except to wave hello as they passed down the street. Then one day I got the feeling that I'd have to talk with them. The feeling was clear, but so was the feeling that I was to wait for further instructions, as if it wasn't ready to happen yet.

Several times after, I'd think of them and wonder when, but there would be no response. No feeling at all. Then one day while I was driving home, I found myself behind this neighbor's truck, and the feeling came, "Now. Now is the time to talk with them."

When I got home I told Sharon I'd be gone for a couple of hours and went over and knocked on their door. He recognized who I was, but stood rather defensively in the doorway as I told him that there was something he had to know. I guess he thought I was a Jehovah's Witness or something. Anyway, I started to tell him the story of how something would happen to society and how he's be protected and so on. Then he stopped me and invited me into the living room, called in his wife and had me tell both of them.

I was telling them that they were being protected from harm, being looked after. When I had finished he said to me, "You know, if you had come last week, I would have said you were crazy." He said, "If you'd come three days ago, I would have said you were crazy. But today, right now, I can't say that because something happened within the last two days that I can't shrug off or explain. I'm having trouble believing it, but I can't shrug it off."

He then told me of two events, unrelated, that had set him up for me. The first happened when he was coming home from work, and he stopped at the corner grocery store. He was talking to the Chinese owner and telling him that he had quite a stomach ache. The grocer said that he could fix it for him. He made some motion with his hands, then reached over the counter and touched him on the stomach. Instantly the pain vanished. Just like magic, it was gone. That happened the day before.

"Last night", he went on, "in the middle of the night something very unusual happened. The oven timer went off, all by itself in the middle of the night. It started going, ding, ding, ding. That had never happened before. It just kept ringing and ringing." He checked with his wife and she hadn't been using it. So he got out of bed and went into the kitchen and shut it off. While he was doing that he noticed a light coming from the living room.

"I went in and found a candle burning on the window sill. My wife had forgotten to put it out when she went to bed. I also noticed that the window was open just enough to blow the curtain over the candle with every breeze and when I came along the curtain was ready to go up in flames." He told me that because it was an older house, he was sure that it would have gone up in a flash. "If I hadn't gotten there when I did, we'd have been cremated, you know. Then I snuffed out the candle and as I did, I just said, ‘thanks'. I don't know who I was saying it to, but it sure seemed appropriate." Then he laughed, "Now you show up here and say somebody's looking after us. How can I say you are crazy?"

The timing had to be just right though. I was shown this fellow about a month before, and it didn't happen until he was ready to accept the message.

One day, our son Sean came home from school with an ear ache. He'd been in a fight or something and was hit on the ear. The pain got worse and the eardrum began to swell until around supper time, when we called the doctor. The doctor on call (not our own) said he'd see Sean that evening. So we took him in. He was really in pain now. The ear drum was swelling and the doctor thought it was on the verge of bursting. He prescribed a pain killer and penicillin for the infection.

On the way home though, the most peculiar thing happened. Even before we got the medicine, Sean fell asleep. We picked up the medicine, but since he was sleeping we didn't want to wake him up for that. We just put him to bed.

The doctor had warned us that he would probably be up most of the night because of the pain. But he slept right through the night. Next morning he awoke feeling fine; no problem with the ear at all. Sharon took him to the doctor's office and the man told her that, had he not seen the report from the previous evening, he's have a hard time believing there's been a problem.

The evening before, when we'd taken Sean to the office, just before we went in, I had a feeling that I was to speak to the doctor. As with the others the feeling came, "Him, you talk to him". I hadn't done anything that evening, of course, because of Sean. But I did pay him a visit a couple of days later, and he was most receptive. Sean was the link.

PART ONE Chapter Three

WILL THE REAL POST OP NURSE PLEASE STAND UP

In 1976, I went to hospital for the first time in my life. As if in preparation for what was to come, in 1972 I awoke in the middle of the night in excruciating pain, right in the kidney. As I tried to nurse it along, it got worse. And then, as quickly as it came on, all of a sudden the pain stopped and that was it. The doctor surmised that I'd passed a kidney stone. So they ran several tests on me, some of which weren't very nice. They turned out negative; all clear.

One evening, in the fall of 1976, I got a premonition that I would be going to hospital. My reaction was something else. "What?" I was really apprehensive, particularly because I'd never been in one before, at least as a patient. But there it was, just like someone telling me, "You're going to hospital."

I was also nervous about how I was going to come to needing a hospital. Would it be an accident? Would I get sick? How bad would it be? And why me? You know, I can really see why people don't want to know their future sometimes. With something like that hanging over my head, I couldn't concentrate too well on other things. Always looking over my shoulder to see what was coming.

Well, I didn't have too long to wait for an answer. A couple of weeks after the premonition, I awoke in terrible pain. The worst I've ever experienced. And the answer was absolutely clear. It was another stone. Well, I tried to tough it out like I did the time before because I dreaded the thought of going to hospital.

Hour after hour, I hung on as the pain got worse, until finally I was told by my sister, a nurse, that what was going on with me was pretty serious and that I'd better get some help fast. I'd better get to a hospital.

So early that Saturday morning, I was checking into the Surrey Memorial Hospital. The pain was something indescribable. They gave me a shot of demerol and put me into a four bed ward. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, just nursing the pain.

I remember though, even through the pain, that as they brought me into the room, I was attracted to two of the beds, which were empty, as if they were targets. At the time though, I couldn't have cared less.

The next morning I passed the stone, so I began feeling much better. I told the nurse about it, and at the same time I enquired if my doctor had been notified when I was admitted. I was assured that indeed he had been. I wasn't feeling right about it though because since I'd been moved from emergency, no doctors had come to see me, much less my own family doctor.

Later that morning, the bed across from me became occupied by a young man who's ailment they couldn't determine. I overheard the doctors talking about this mysterious case across from me, and that they didn't know what was wrong with him. He was in one of the beds I had been shown the day before.

Monday morning came and I was feeling even better than Sunday. In fact, I'd forgotten all about the feelings I'd had to make contacts. The only thing I was concerned about was getting out of there and going home. I was really feeling cooped up. So I phoned Sharon and complained to her about it. That I was feeling pretty good, that no doctors had come to see me, and that I just felt stuck in there. She came back, "Look, when the reason for your being in the hospital is over, you'll be out. Just go back to your room," she said, "and see what happens."

I went back to my room and shortly after that a woman about 25 came in. She was visiting the patient beside me. We got to talking, just about things in general. But I knew she'd been targeted, so I got her name and where she worked for a future contact. Then I linked up with the guy with the mystery ailment. Then I was shown some of the staff there. Some doctors, nurses, and so on. All targeted for later.

The next morning, this is Tuesday now, I just happened to walk out of my room into the hall, and almost literally into my doctor. He was surprised to see me and asked what I was doing in there anyway?

"I checked in on the weekend," I told him. "Didn't you know?".

In short, nobody had notified him. Then he asked how I was feeling. He checked my records at the nurses station and turfed me out saying, "You're on your way, no reason for you to be in here."

Now, that was just fine with me, but the usual procedure is to notify a patient's doctor on admission. And they're supposed to let him know when the stone is passed. Not only that, but several times I'd been assured that my doctor knew I was in. You figure it out. I was kept there long enough to make the contacts and the targets, and that done, I was released.

Almost exactly a year later, in November of 1977, I again found myself in pain from a stone, and again, it was a weekend. So Saturday morning I was back in the same hospital again. I was in for two days, passed the stone after the first day and spent the rest of the time making connections. That time around I linked with seven people.

Now here's the rub. This time when I passed the stone, I noticed it was totally different from the others. Usually they're rough shaped with sharp edges. But this time the thing was shaped just like a kidney. I couldn't help thinking about the guides and their peculiar way of getting messages through. I have to admit, the joke wasn't lost, even if I wasn't mightily impressed with their sense of humor.

Three weeks later, again on Saturday morning, I was back again. This time though the trip was to be quite different. I would spend a week in there.

Again, early in my stay, I passed the stone. But it was so small that the doctors just couldn't believe that it was the whole thing. They figured that only part of a larger stone had come away. They decided that an exploratory procedure was necessary to make sure they got the whole thing.

"There's something still in the tube," the urologist told me, "we will have to go in and clean it out. I think we'll likely go in on Wednesday."

Now that was the last straw. Bad enough I have to come to hospital. But now they want to operate and I'd never had that done before, not even for tonsils. I didn't want the operation; most of all I didn't want to be put out with an anesthetic. The urologist explained that they insert a catheter type device that has a grabber on the end. They put it right into the tubes and if there's anything there, they just grab ahold and pull it out. Well, I wasn't very happy about it, but it seemed as if I had no other choice, so it was all arranged.

Meanwhile, in my guise of secret agent, I spent my time well, making more contacts. One of the people I hooked up with was the head chef for one of the major airlines.

One morning I was in the patient's lounge and I got to talking with a fellow. I thought, here's another contact, so I opened up to him. When I'd finished, I got my check mark form the story he told me in return. This man had been an officer on the British battleship HMS Hood. That's the one sunk by the Bismarck when a shell went down the stack and went off in the magazine. Fifteen hundred men died in one instant.

He told me that just hours before they were to sail, he was ordered to Plymouth. The captain was fond of him and offered to have the orders changed, but he turned down the offer. He felt somehow that he was supposed to leave the ship. Check!

Making contacts, it seemed, was really the lesser reason for my being in this time. On the evening before the operation I had a couple of visitors. The first was the ‘post op' nurse. She came in and told me all about the operation, what the procedure was and all that I could expect. They sort of clue you in so you don't worry so much.

"After the operation," she said, "you'll find yourself in the recovery room. That's where you'll come to. Don't worry if the surroundings seem strange. Just take a few deep breaths and that should help clear away any after effects of the anesthetic."

Her visit didn't do very much for me. I was feeling pretty depressed about the whole thing. In fact, I sort of felt that the whole thing would be a waste; that they wouldn't find anything. But I was stuck; trapped sort of, and feeling very unhappy about it.

Midnight came and I was still stewing about it when my second visitor arrived. I had just closed my eyes, and there in front of me was one of my guides. I could see him with my eyes closed. As soon as I saw him through, he zoomed up and touched me on the forehead. It was all too fast for me to react, but the next thing I knew, he took me somewhere else, like into another dimension. I don't remember much, but it was very, very pleasant.

When I came around the next morning, it was as if I'd been tranquillized. In fact, I was in such a state that I didn't even need the pre-op tranquillizer. I was already out of it, just naturally tranquillized, or should I say, supernaturally tranquillized.

So, off I went to the operating room, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a strange room. I wasn't alone. There were many others there as well, all unconscious. When the fog cleared away a little more, I realized that I was in the recovery room.

All that occured within seconds, because in reality I came around pretty quick. In fact, I sat up on the gurney, bolt upright. The nurses had to talk me out of getting out of bed.

When I was back in my room, I was talking to the nurse and asked her what they had found during the operation. She said, nothing. They'd come up with nothing. You know, my first reaction was one of anger. After all, I knew they wouldn't find anything. I knew it. I guess the part of me that took the biggest bruising was my ego. I sort of considered myself rather invincible. I'd never before been put under, and I wasn't very happy about it now.

On the spiritual side though, things were really cooking. During the week I was in hospital, I managed about thirty contacts, doctors, nurses, patients, specialists, you name it.

One night, after I had come home, while I was still recuperating, I had a dream. In it I was told very clearly why I'd gone the route in the hospital.

"Look", the guide said, "you are like the pre-op nurse. You go around preparing people for the operation. But until now, you had never experienced an operation where you were put to sleep in one place, to wake up somewhere else in strange surroundings. That's what your contacts will have happen to them. Now you know how they will feel and respond."

They were telling me that I wouldn't be taken into the pocket areas that way, the way most would. So I had to have the experience ahead of time in order to appreciate what would be going on. It's quite a striking analogy.

PART ONE Chapter Two

"I QUIT"

In my awakening process, and you must understand, it's not everyone's awakening process, I had to start with a few pieces and build the picture as I went. As I grew with it, adjustments had to be made; some from within and some from without. It wasn't without anguish. In fact, at one point, I was ready to chuck the whole thing and quit.

Early in 1976, I started to actively contact people and tell them the story. I wasn't too far into it, maybe I'd contacted twenty or so, when I got this feeling to take a trip into the Laden area of the Fraser Canyon and see for myself what the pockets would look like; check them out first hand, so to speak.

"It was an exciting thought. I figured that I'd run into others in the same cause, doing related work, aware of what was going on. I was looking forward to meeting these neat people, exchanging notes, you know, like progress reports, on how our various missions were progressing.

Well, I went to the areas, and I was stunned. The places were there alright, but where were the provisions? There were people in these areas too, but they weren't aware of what was going on. I figured that to go along with what I was doing, there's be people who would be aware busily getting things all arranged. Stock piling food, supplies and getting ready for all these people that would be zapped into the pockets.

My scope of things was pretty small at that time, and it was this trip, this great let-down that in fact helped to enlarge my view of what was taking place, and what was going to take place. But right then, out there in the country, I was one very disillusioned boy. I was thinking, here I am way out on a limb telling people the story about the protection, and the pockets and all and what I was expecting to be in place to receive them wasn't there.

I felt betrayed. And as I was driving home through the Fraser Canyon, I was talking away to whoever was in charge up there, "That's it, that's it! I quit!" I was feeling personally responsible for the whole thing. I'd gone way out on a limb on this thing and there's nothing there. There are going to be a lot of disillusioned people there when the time comes and nothing is ready for them. And I couldn't handle that thought. I was angry. I was disillusioned and quickly becoming very depressed about the whole thing. Right there I was saying, "Go find someone else, I want out."

There! I had my say, and I was all talked out. So I was driving along very quietly for a while, just like a long period of silence after a storm.

"Look!", the voice came right into my mind, "don't you realize that there's no need to stockpile everything there? When it's time, the material things will all be there." Then the voice said, "Are you blind to the fact that the CNR, the CPR and the Trans Canada Highway go right through there (the Laden area)?" Then I was told that any material goods that were needed could be supplied simply by arranging to have any quantity of commodities in the area when the event occurs. You know, trains of wheat and other foodstuffs, semi-trailers on the highway, they'd have nowhere to go anyway. There would be no east, no west, they'd be stuck right there. Later in fact, I found out that some areas are provisioned and waiting, but not in this dimension. There'll be more on that later.

They said they could even arrange for people to be stuck there, like the passenger train. And you know, what they were really telling me was to wake up. That if my end can be set up, then so can the rest of it. They can do whatever is needed, when it's needed. They were telling me that this part of it was not really my concern, that I wasn't to fret about that end of the operation. "You do your job," they said, "somebody else is looking after those aspects, don't you concern yourself with that." Then I was told about the person who would be looking after things there. I was told about a shoe store manager in downtown Vancouver, that had coffee in the same restaurant that I did. They told me, he would be the one, but that for all kinds of reasons he wasn't ready to be made aware of it at that time.

What I was also told was that I was trying to find limits, or put limits on the bank account of God, so to speak. They told me that when I was dealing with God, I had a blank cheque. That whatever I was moved to tell people, whatever scenario I was motivated to paint, would occur. In other words, whatever the bill I ran up, the cheque would be good for the amount. "You write the cheques, leave the accounting to us."

"Well, there I was rather neatly put in my place. I sort of humbly went back to work. After that, my contacting escalated to about one a day to the end of the year, and by the end of 1977, I was up to two hundred a week at one point. But that trip was a major turning point in the whole thing for me.

"I had a dream one morning. In fact, the dreams were coming with such regularity that you could set your watch by them. They always came at five o'clock.

In this particular dream, I was working at a building washing windows on the sixth floor. Then I see myself talking with a man who looked just like Sean Connery. When I woke up, I told Sharon about the whole thing, then tucked it away and got ready to go to work.

On this same Saturday morning as the dream, I went to work cleaning windows. Time for a break. I came in from the outside of the building, onto the sixth floor. The whole floor was one big open accounting office with a board room at one end. While I was walking through the office, a man looked out of the open doorway to the board room....... and it was him. Sean Connery. Well, he sure looked like him anyway. The same guy I'd seen in the dream. Then it clicked. "There he is, he's the guy. Talk to him."

I still had my safety belt and other paraphernalia on. But I walked into the office and started talking with the man.

"I got this funny feeling about you," I said. "I'm not a psychic, but I get a feeling to talk to certain people..." Then I told him the story.

"It's funny, people are different you know. I would sort of automatically be able to look into whatever level they were at, mentally and spiritually, and relate to that person. That's the way I got the message across. And he was listening to what I had to say.

Anyway, while I was talking to Sean Connery, I noticed a young woman going by the door, which was still open. She seemed to have an ear cocked to what I was saying. I was sort of getting the feeling that I should talk with her as well. But when I finished talking with the man, I went back to cleaning windows.

The next thing I knew, the same man is at the window. "There's a young woman in the office," he said, "and she was sort of over hearing us and she wants to hear the story too." I said I'd talk to her.

When we sat down to talk she said, "You know what astounds me about this whole thing?" she says, "I'm open to what you're saying, but what really gets me is you talking to that man in there. He's a sceptic. A real tangible, down to earth, third dimensional person. And it just got me how he was listening to you, and not laughing or kicking you out."

I told her it happens all the time. That I was guided to people when their door is open. Somehow, somebody sets it up that I rendezvous with them at the right moment, throw the seed in through the crack and get the heck out. Then the door closes, but the seed is left behind. When the temperature gets to the right point, the seed germinates and it'll take off.

Bizarre is the word you'd have to apply to the situation and circumstances surrounding who to see and when. My car wasn't running right, so I took it to the shop for a tune up. I left it for the day and went to work. When I came back the car was ready. They'd done a major tune up and even steam cleaned the engine. For their trouble they wanted ninety dollars. I complained that I didn't want done all of what they did, but what the heck, I decided to pay for it anyway rather than make too much of a fuss.

As I drove the car away though, I noticed that the temperature gauge wasn't working. Well, I got a little upset. Ninety bucks I'd paid for the work and I've got a temperature gauge that doesn't work. And it was working fine when I took it in.

I went back to the manager of the shop and complained about it. He claimed that they hadn't even touched the thing. I demanded that they fix it anyway since it was working when I took the car in. He mucked around trying to fix it, all the time saying that he can't understand it, that they hadn't touched it.

Now, with him still denying any funny business with the gauge, I was starting to get a little hot under the collar. When all of a sudden the gauge came back to life. I thanked the manager and left. But I was still suspicious, he was just too defensive.

Now, to add insult to injury, the next day the car started running rough, really rough. I was thinking, "The shop gave me a three month warranty on the tune up, but I really don't want anything more to do with that manager..." when a shot comes to me.

"It's not his fault." just like someone beaming into my head, I was being told, "You're supposed to talk with him (the manager). That's how we marked him for you. After the experience with him before, I wasn't anxious to go back, but finally I decided I would. So I said to myself, right out loud, "Alright, I'll go talk to him." As soon as I said that, the car ran smooth.

I went to see the guy, and I apologized about the hassle over the gauge, and I told him that I had something to tell him. Now, I couldn't really explain about the gauge and motor acting up, but in a round about way I did tell him the story.

I said that if he found himself in a mountain valley at some point, just like out of the clear blue, he would know why. I told him, "Around you will be people. They will all know you. And you will be extraordinarily calm about it all. You will be unnaturally calm considering that in the twinkling of an eye you've been zapped from one world into another. All around people will be in a kind of shock. They won't know what's happened.

"At that time," I told him, "all hell will have broken loose in the major world centers. But no harm will come to you. In fact, you'll calm down these people."

I didn't say that he would try to calm them down, I said, "you will" and that he'd be the source of peace and comfort to these people around him.

"They'll be looking to you. You'll be the main gathering point, the nucleus, you and your wife, or whoever you're with. They will all home in on you because you'll be the common denominator.

This was the main message that I delivered to those I contacted. I also told them that the areas that they'd find themselves in would be protected as if there was an invisible shield covering the valley, protecting it.

If ever I had doubts about a contact, you know, whether or not I had the right one, strange things would happen to show that indeed I was on target.

I had a dream that showed me that I'd be talking to a bank messenger. "You go to (such and such) branch in Vancouver. He's in the branch with four other messengers, but you'll know which one. Go in and talk to him."

So I went to the bank, and sure enough, there he was. So I told him what I had to say. When I'd finished, he said, "I don't believe in that stuff. I'm closed minded about that." I said, okay, maybe I got the wrong guy. I was told he's be tough to reach, but I just excused myself and started to walk away.

"Wait", he said. "I want to tell you something." He called me back even though I was trying to break the contact. "It's a strange life," he says, "you know, I was in the war, the Korean conflict", he says, "and I was in a valley with two hundred guys. It was an ambush. We were caught by the enemy and everybody was wiped out but twelve guys. I was one of the twelve," he tells me. He thought that that was a miracle that he was alive.

"Well", I said, "I just told you that you'll find yourself in a certain situation and no harm will come to you. And now I leave it with you. You tie the two together. Why are you telling me this stuff right now when I'm leaving, crossing you off?" All the while though, inside my mind I get, "check... you got the right guy".

"TWO"

I began this session by asking,

"What is it that I need to learn?"
You are aware of the issues you have in not accepting others. You should really be looking at having patience and acceptance with yourself. You are hard on yourself in many ways. There is a judgement you are harbouring regarding yourself which was created a long time ago when you were not recognized as worthwhile. You keep trying to prove yourself to yourself. You are beginning to get it. Other people accept you more than you accept yourself. If you fully accepted yourself you would have a much easier time in accepting others.

"How do I proceed with this? "
You must begin to treat yourself well and with respect. You must care for yourself with proper diet and exercise. You must make yourself available to spirit on a regular basis. You need to learn to receive from others as easily as you are able to give to them.

"Is there a block to maintaining a healthy diet?"
You have to let the part that wants to overeat suffer in lack. Lack will not harm it, but it makes you think it will harm you. It is the disconnected one and it wants to keep you disconnected. When you feel the need to eat extra be gentle but firm with this part. Stand your ground. Realize the emotions which come up are caused by things from the past which are over. This part of you will not die. You are changing and it must change with you. You may have to overrule it many times. It is helping you learn patience and acceptance.

Author's note: I suspect that much of my channeled writing has more to do with me than anyone else, yet we humans have similar stories at times, and so I share this with you in the hope it may trigger some insight. I wrote this several months ago and when I re-read it today I understood what it actually says.
The second section has a different feel to it as though it is from a different source. It does complement the first section though.


Shall we continue?
Part of your difficulty with loosing weight has to do with fear. There are parts of you needing to be expressed. They are not horrific nasty parts as you suspect, but tender delicious parts which are easily overwhelmed and tend to stay hidden for safety. Why? They were trod on long ago and it just doesn't feel safe. You have made the issue be about the food, but this is not the case. As a spiritual being you have all the resources at hand that you will need. The problem is in remembering that you are a spiritual being in the difficult times. You will not die if you eat less although it does feel that way to you.

Let us give you some guidance. By the time you are wanting to overeat you have already well passed the point where you could conceivably have stopped yourself. At this point there is too much momentum built up to be able to divert yourself easily. This it why most over eaters believe they are powerless over what they eat. You are actually powerless over what life dishes up to you in terms of obstacles but you are not powerless over your own choices if you take the time to pre-plan.

Here are some suggestions:
1. Start your day with meditation or prayer, asking for help with your food.
2. When sitting down to a meal, before you start eating, check in with spirit for guidance as to what to choose from all that is available to eat. Then follow it.
3. Between meals, when you start to feel uncomfortable, check with your body to see what it needs. Don't just feed it. You may be tired, thirsty, or just needing to do something different for a while.
4. Once you have done this for a while you will get really good at reading your own signals and will begin to loose weight.

You have gotten this far many times before but instead of experiencing success you get swamped by all the baggage you are carrying and run to food for relief.

You need to put an end to the pain.

If it is current you must find a way to change it. Usually though, it is pain from the past. Again, it is well to ask for guidance from spirit.

It is necessary to get in touch with your core self, your spirit. Learn to spend time with it in meditation until you can feel the richness of it. Realize that everything else but your core self is of the physical world and you do not need it. Your relationships, your fears and challenges, your possessions and even your family are all extraneous to that core self. In other words, they are secondary in importance even though they may feel very important.

Everything is spirit. Your challenge is to stay connected to your center in the midst of it all. Most cannot maintain this yet, hence the pain that you all feel. Within your spirit there is no pain, no anger, no greed or need, no control or dependence. You see, we are actually dealing with emotions. The emotions are not in the core self, they are in its physical manifestations. Emotions are meant to be messengers to guide us, not hurt us.

Work with whatever it is that keeps coming up. It is easier if you connect with your core self to do it. If someone has taken something from you, release it to them with joy. If they have harmed you forgive them and ask them to forgive you. Do it in as many instances as it takes until you are able to release the issue.
If someone hasn't met your needs, it is not their job to do that. Go to your core and receive everything you need.

Your past is your story, it is not who you really are.

You will begin to see that it is possible to fill yourself from yourself with spirit. When you are full your remaining issues seem very small indeed.

There are many in spirit who are willing to help you with this. More than willing in fact, we will be delighted.

Let this get you started. Come to us on a daily basis. We are waiting for you and we hold you in much love.

PART ONE Chapter One

THE LITTLEST HOBO

"Aren't the pigeons funny?" That was the first thing the disheveled old man said to me. "Aren't the pigeons funny?" and with that I was launched on one of the most fantastic adventures that even a novelist in his wildest moments couldn't have formulated. It has totally changed my life, as well as the lives of my wife Sharon and our two sons, Steven and Sean.

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning when I was asked that peculiar question about the pigeons. I had taken a few moments to stop for a junk food lunch at a drive-in hamburger joint on Kings way, in Burnaby, a suburb of Vancouver, B.C. (Canada).

I had missed the coffee break crowd, and it was too early for the lunch rush. As a result, I was alone in the place. While I stood, sort of daydreaming, waiting for my food, I was startled when he spoke.

"Aren't the pigeons funny?"

My first thought was to turn and look out onto the parking lot, usually busy with pigeons after the food scraps. But the peculiar thing was, THERE WEREN'T ANY THERE!

The man who asked the question was standing right behind me, so I had to turn around to see him. He was somewhere in his fifties, I'd say, bearded, somewhat disheveled. He was wearing a faded denim jacket and looked a bit like a farmer.

"I have this place in the country," he says to me. "These birds will be gathered. They're on this loft," and he's motioning with his arms. "They're on this loft, and there's this other bird over here. And a light comes shining through this bird and hits these other birds." He said, "I feed all the birds." And he told me quantities, in bushels. You know, he told me figures.

"Well, I thought he was a guy who just wanted someone to talk to, right? You know, sometimes some older folks just like to come up to you and talk. Well, I'm not doing anything anyway, so I stood there and listened politely. But all the time he was talking, he didn't once look me in the eye. He was looking off into space telling me that something was going to happen to the world, but that there were enclosures to protect certain people. He assured me that me and my family would be protected. We'd be safe.

"Well, here's my order," I said, and prepared to leave. But before I could, he looked me straight in the eye for the first time since he started talking, and he said, "I'll see you later." Then he touched me on the shoulder and an electric like shock went through me. If he hadn't done that, I probably would have dismissed the whole thing as some poor old lonely soul wanting a bit of an audience. But that shock like sensation simply underlined the whole thing.

I took my lunch and left, but as I was leaving, I looked back at this character once more. I was really puzzled about the encounter and seriously wondering just what the heck it was all about. He just stood there for a moment where I'd left him, then he turned a circle. He turned right around in a circle and walked out the door and along the side of the restaurant. He disappeared! He just sort of vanished into thin air.

"Well. That's pretty weird," I thought to myself. He never ordered. The waitress never asked him if he wanted anything, just as if he wasn't there. I shook my head as if I were dreaming the whole thing. Day dreaming, you know, but he touched me. And there was that electrical jolt. I couldn't deny that.

"Then I thought, "He's probably gone to the washroom." And I wanted to go into the washroom just to confirm that indeed he'd gone in there. But I got a countering thought. It said, "No, you don't want to go in there, because if you go in there and discover that he's not in there, how are you going to handle what's just happened?" What was going on was I was being told to leave things as they were. I mean, you could always rationalize that he's in the bathroom, and that he was just some farmer that wanted to talk, right? So that's where I left it, unresolved.

"About two years later, I'd just about forgotten the restaurant incident, when it happened again. This time there were two of them, looking like skid road bums. I was cleaning windows in downtown Vancouver at the time.

One of them stood back about thirty feet and watched while the other came up to me and said, "Careful for the height".

What did he mean? Was he referring to my work as a window cleaner? My work on scaffolds, ladders, or hanging off of buildings? I turned to him and he repeated the phrase, "Careful for the height." Then he said it a third time, and went on, "Me and my friend," and he pointed to the other fellow standing off a bit, "Me and my friend have been here a long time. We've seen people come and go. We've seen people born and die." Then he said, "Everything's going to be okay. We're close by all the time." Then he touched me on the shoulder and said, "Just take care." And when he did that, a warm electric sensation went through me, just like the time in the restaurant. He turned and walked to his companion and the two of them just sort of faded off the street right in front of me. Like they weren't there. That was in 1973.

In 1974, a wino came up to me on the sidewalk by one of those little parks in downtown New Westminster (British Columbia) right near the skid road area. He walked right up beside me, looking for all the world like a wino, or a hobo. Even more strange, he had a wad of gum wrappers in his hand. Juicy fruit and Spearmint wrappers. And he had them separated into two piles, one yellow and one green. He was just picking them up off of the street, and I couldn't help thinking that he must be pretty weird to be doing that.

As if to reply to my thought he said, "I collect these you know. You should know about that." And he looked right into my face and pointed at the wrappers. "These are the Protestants and these are the catholics," he said, indicating the two colors, "You know, you can't get just any. They can't be torn or dirty." He said, "These are special wrappers.'

Well, he kept on beside me as I was walking, and he was jabbering about something or other, and all the time I was thinking, "This guy is cracked."

"You know," he said, "there's this wagon, and it's pulled by some horses, this wagon load of wheat. And it comes to this elevator and goes up a ramp, and the horses are skittish, `cause they don't like going up the ramp."

Bang! My mind is blown away! He was going right into my head, into my memories of when I was a boy of about four. I was riding on this wagon load of wheat in Saskatchewan, going into the elevator with my dad. And, as the wino had said, the horses didn't like going up the ramp into the elevator. When they get inside a hoist comes up and tips the wagon off of its front wheels and dumps the grain.

I was astounded because this guy is describing what occurred one particular day. He described the whole thing. I could remember going to the elevator and what happened there. But I don't remember coming home.

"You got frightened of the machinery in the elevator," he said.

Well, you know, there were three things I had been frightened about, and right there he told me all about the three of them, talking about the equipment and all. I was amazed. Now I'm really wondering who this guy is. What he isn't I thought, is a skid road bum. This guy is no wino. He has to be coming from some other dimension, some other level. But why? What for?

Questions aside, I was so astounded, and so excited about it, that I wanted to phone Sharon right then and there and tell her about it. I saw a phone booth and turned to it to make the call. But I discovered the phone cord was broken. When I turned back to the wino, he'd vanished.

In the fall of 1974, one particular day, I was washing windows down near the skid road area of Vancouver when all of a sudden, out of the clear blue, this thing got beamed into my mind. It was just as if someone was beside me whispering in my ear. And I started to get a poem coming into my mind. It was so compelling I had to stop work, and write it down. Now, I'd diddled around a bit writing some poetry before, but never anything like this. That day, I wrote down the "Prince of Hope". I didn't compose it; I just wrote it down like it was being dictated to me. It started;

One day, while I was walking by the sea, I met a man who's most different from others that I've seen. On his cloak he wore a star-like symbol that had more points than one we're prone to draw.

You know, we're prone to draw the five pointed star and this was referring to the six pointed Star of David. And it went on;

And I saw this light shine from around him, and I asked if I could wear his coat.......

And it came out complete. It had a rather peculiar rhythm and rhyme, but there it was. And it goes on to describe how after taking the coat, the light didn't come as well; that the light came from him, not his cloak.

Then I asked him where he was from and why he had come, `I am from shores so far away that ships of space which you possess will never touch. But yet so close that your heart can nearly see.'

I was just overwhelmed. It was just coming out of space, so to speak, complete, and all I had to do was write it down. Remember, I wasn't psyching myself up to write poetry. I was cleaning windows when all of a sudden, ZING! In came the piece. I got the complete first part right away, then the last part of it, then the middle parts just flowed in over the following couple of days.

In one instance, a waitress came up to me in the restaurant, and out of the blue says, "Why don't you write something on patience." Right out of the blue. But as soon as she said it... bang!... there it was, complete.

After I let it sit for awhile, I published it myself with the help of a few friends. We hand bound the copies and all. Over the years since, it has been requested by and sent to most English departments in universities across Canada. It's in the B.C. (British Columbia) Archives and so on. But of the 700 (copies) we've put out, I haven't sold a single copy. I just had to give them away. After all, it was given to me.

In 1975, I had three visions. I saw what was going to happen in the future. I also saw that these visions were tied in with these strange encounters I'd been having and the strange thoughts and inspirations that had been coming to me. It was as if someone had been trying to get through to me from another dimension.

In the first vision, I was standing in the mountains on a grassy slope. Nearby was a powerful being, sitting just off to my left. He was beaming a ray at me which tranquillized me so I wouldn't be frightened at what I was seeing. And what I was seeing was incredible.

I saw a mountain coming unglued. It was crumbling and the big rocks were just coming down like a waterfall. And as they fell, they turned into houses, buses, and other types of vehicles, all containing people. They were being crushed as they came down. I saw the people in anguish before they were crushed and killed.

The spirit guide who was off to my left interrupted my thoughts then with a command. "No! Don't look at that, look over here!". And out of this holocaust were tumbling some people. They were landing on the grassy slopes of the mountains unhurt. They were being thrown clear. I couldn't identify any of them, they were just people. Then the spirit said, "That's what you have to see. You will see that and you will see those people living."

Here I was, surrounded by mountains, all of them intact except for the one directly in front of me which was breaking up. And I was being shown that people would land on these green grassy slopes and be alright.

Right after that I had a second vision which showed another aspect of this whole thing where there were groupings of people. Some of them were already in place, and others were moving to B.C. from all over the globe. They were being drawn consciously and unconsciously to safe areas or pockets of protection in British Columbia. That was in 1975.

At the beginning of 1976, my next encounter with a guide occurred. The older chap, the one who'd appeared to me first in the restaurant, appeared to me one night in a dream. He had me by the shoulders, he shook me, and asked me three questions.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Well, I'm Menno Pauls, window cleaner," I replied. He didn't like that answer. He shook me again and asked, "Where are you going?" And I told him I was cleaning windows. He didn't like that answer either. He shook me again and said, "You should know by now who you are and what you're doing; or what you're supposed to be doing." Then he asked, "Where are you going?" And he answered that one. All of a sudden I was in a valley on an old farm, an old homestead. There was a barn on one part of it, and behind me, an old farm house. We were standing in a field of green crops of some sort. Maybe alfalfa, I don't know, but it was really green.

That was the last thing I saw and then `poof'. Everything disappeared. Then it dawned on me. "With everything that's been happening here," I thought "from 1971 to 1976, you should start to get the drift of what your role is, and what you're doing."

After that I started getting directions almost in the form of commands. They'd say, "Go and talk to so and so".

The first contact I made was with a couple who lived on a farm near Handy, up in the Fraser Valley. We had known them for maybe five or six years; they were very unique people. Only now did I realize why we were acquainted. When I went to see them, I knew exactly what to tell them.

"You know," I said, "one day you're going to come to in a green kind of a setting, a valley and mountain area. When that happens," I told them, "something awful will have happened in the world, but no harm will come to you. You'll be alright. It'll be very strange. I'm telling you now so you'll have a chance to think about it, let it soak in, so you can cope with what's going to happen and help others who will be there, but without the benefit of knowing why."

Message delivered and accepted. I was on my way. Now the real work had begun.

PART ONE: Introduction

By Ray Hudson

The hands of the doomsday clock have been moved to within two minutes of midnight, the theoretical time of the great nuclear holocast. Never before has man been so close to annihilation by his own hand. Every day the various news media bring more news of disaster from all around the world. Disasters such as earthquakes, tornado, flood, drought, wars and threats of wars, economic collapse, ecological contamination by increasingly horrendous chemicals, and on and on and on.

It's not hard to understand why so many people give in to the overwhelming tide of negativity in the world and resign themselves to whatever the fates hold in store, convinced that they have no role to play and certainly no hope of changing anything anyway. They've lost hope in a better world, a better tomorrow.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. The Old Testament has chronicled these times for thousands of years. The New Testament as well, deals with these times in the final book, the Book of Revelations. The French physician and psychic, Nostradamus, wrote about these times almost four hundred years before they arrived. And in the last fifty or so years, there has been an unending stream of prophecies and warnings from psychics and scientists alike, who say we're in for big trouble now, not at some future time, if we don't get our act cleaned up as far as our treatment of our fellow human beings, not to mention the Earth that sustains us.

We are, I firmly believe, falling headlong into the Age of Tribulation, as the Bible calls it, or in a contemporary term, the transition period leading to the New Age.

Many people on this Earth are selfishly perpetuating the old ways, the old order, despite its short comings of racial and social inequality, irresponsible use, and abuse of power and wealth, and rampant greed and corruption.

Those who have a material stake in this old order choose not to look, or are blind to the changes, even now, starting to take place around us. Others, who are the victims of the systems of the old order have in many cases given in to feelings of futility, that they don't count and thus, can do nothing to improve the world and expecting nothing more than its eventual collapse with nothing beyond. Many have forgotten the promises of the new and beautiful age to follow, or else they simply cannot believe that such a thing could happen.

This book is for those who have clung steadfastly to the hope that somehow, things will indeed get better, even if they have to get worse first. Those that believe that the world can be cleansed and reborn, that the Age of Aquarius will indeed see 'peace guiding the planets, and love steering the stars'.

This book is for those who have lifted themselves through HOPE and FAITH, above the low and negative forces at work in the realm of twentieth century planet Earth.

This is a book of HOPE, and a story of FAITH. It tells the story of the last ten years in the life of Menno Pauls, and his family. Menno is, to all appearances, a most ordinary man. By profession he is a window cleaner. He doesn't drink or smoke but harbours an incredible passion for hamburgers. He is married to Sharon, and they have two boys, Steven and Sean. Menno is simply a quiet, unassuming, non-judgemental, gentle man.

As you will read in this account, they have, as a family, been called upon by powers far beyond our plane of existence, to do a job in preparation for the coming of the New Age.

In reference to this book, Menno has pointed out; "Right from the start we must understand the difference between FAITH and HOPE. FAITH is something personal that comes into being.... in the relationship between my human self and my spiritual self. HOPE, is something that I can convey to those around me. To me, the happenings of the last ten years have been an on-going development of personal FAITH. To the reader, the message is one of HOPE."

Those of us who are working to bring this awareness to those around us, to get the message conveyed, are involved in a project so large that it boggles the mind. Yet we have our jobs assigned. Now, you too, are becoming aware, and your role in the scheme of things will be defined when the time is right. In addition, ponder this; somewhere, at sometime, beyond your conscious memory, you volunteered your services. We are simply telling you, now, to stand by for action.

The responsibilities that Menno and his family have shouldered comprise their own unique task in this project. You probably will never be assigned anything quite so arduous. Then again, you might!

The vitally important aspects of this text are that you become aware, and build that awareness, hope, and faith, and prepare spiritually for what's to come. Just as an athlete must be in top physical condition to take on the challenge he has before him, so too, must you be in top spiritual condition to fulfill your assignment when the call to duty comes to you.

Rest assured also, that if you are reading this book right now, it's probably because you are already on the team. The option that you have now, as one of the aware, is to opt out. You will always have the free will to choose whether or not you'll participate. But it would be sad indeed if you chose not to walk into the New Age with us.

In this time of cults and false prophets, one must be very careful of the path taken, and the cause espoused. What we have in these pages is nothing more than a message, powerful though it is. Menno leads no group. There is no organization to join. There are no monetary dues to pay. All that is asked of you is that you develop your spiritual self so that you, in turn, may help others when the crunch comes, as it surely will.

You are not expected, or asked, nor is it even suggested that you divest yourself of what you have, or change what you do. If things are to be discarded, they are the mental things. Those things that are the self centered methods and philosophies of the age that is now passing away must be discarded. The important divestment right now is a mental, not a material, one. In return the acquisition should be a greater spiritual awareness, a positive attitude, and a love of all things. This, in turn, will clear your mental channels so that you may better hear what your conscious, your guides, and your God, have to say to you. Listen carefully.

All indications are that the end of the age is upon us and the time remaining to the final scenes is very short indeed.

Menno's story is being presented in this medium now, because there are many who must still be made aware; many that Menno cannot otherwise reach. This story is a living demonstration of FAITH and HOPE, and how it has been used to accomplish so much. It is certainly an eloquent example for us all.

Christ said, "He who seeks to save his life shall lose it, and whosoever seeks to lose his life will preserve it". In other words, concern yourself not with the material things, have HOPE, and concentrate on developing FAITH, and to your amazement, you'll find that all the things you require will be provided, that you are cared for!

Some people when 'awakened' want to get at it. They want something to do right away, to get into action. The often quoted lines by Milton are appropriate here, "They also serve who only stand and wait". This, in fact, is what most of us will be doing, waiting. But this isn't idle time.

This is a time to develop and stretch and exercise those spiritual muscles that you'll be relying on later. A few have tasks to do now. Some, like Menno, will continue contacting people and passing along the message. Some are learning about survival. Others still are learning about and practicing healing arts, and others, such as myself, are writing about it. Yet, by far, the greatest number of the aware will have little to do until the major changes, discussed in the book, occur. It's then, after the apocalypse, that the real job begins, the job of building a new world, to go along with the New Age.

There has been much written and published concerning the awesome events, that have been predicted, to bring about the end of this age. Part of this book deals with those events, but only to establish reference points for the discussions of what will occur in the positive arena, while the tide of negativity and destruction sweeps the rest of the globe.

The goal of this book isn't to dwell on the events that end the world as it now exists, but to deal with those people who are of the New Age, the seeds of the future, the seeds of time, and how they will traverse this winter of humanity.

We are ultimately concerned with the birth of the New Age, not the dissolution of the old. We deal with it only as a jumping off point to the future.

We seek to be positive wherever possible. There is far too much negativity afoot in the world as it is. Indeed, that is the very fuel upon which the apocalypse will feed, and although some of the events we must deal with in the book are, by their very nature, negative, the structure of this book is one of positivity and love, FAITH and HOPE. Take the positivity from it and build a positive attitude in all things. Build your stock of FAITH and HOPE. For, although it is generally agreed by many, that the major earth upheavals that have been predicted cannot now be averted, their intensity in terms of their effect on you and those around you can be much lessened. The power of positivity!

Lend this precious positive energy to everything you do. Don't dwell on the negative because your positive input right now will make all the difference in the world; this one, as well as the one coming up. Use what you read here to assist in your developement, but don't make this your only source. Clear those channels within so you can really hear what's being said. Remember, the best source for the necessary inspiration is within you, not in this book. You have only to seek it out.

Be careful to avoid, what is a human trait, confering some special status upon Menno, because of his experience and work on this mission. He's simply part of a team. A team that goes much farther than this primitive plane of existence. You are on that same team. There are no stars here. Ego is set aside. The mission is the important thing.

Menno, Sharon, and the boys, as well as many others who are unknown to you, have been in the field, actively working for quite a while already. That is no reason to put them in a special 'superstar' category. They are simply your brothers and sisters working toward a common goal, a new and better world, nothing more.

Whatever your age, whatever your station in life, you are now aware that you can be among the seeds of the future. Whether or not you germinate is entirely up to you. The fertilizers in this process are HOPE and FAITH. Use them copiously.

Through the coming years your HOPE, and your FAITH, will do much to lighten your burdens. They will allow you to see far beyond the horizons of this world.

FAITH and HOPE are your tickets to the New Age. You are now aware, be ready, and watch....... watch for the gathering of the Eagles.

Ray Hudson
Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
September 20, 1981