The Flood Is Still Upon Us E-Book

Neville Goddard

• Herausgeber: Andura Publishing
• Kategorie: Ratgeber
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Experience the life-changing power of Neville Goddard with this unforgettable lesson.

Leseprobe

The Flood Is Still Upon Us

Neville Goddard

[The tape starts in the middle of a sentence]

…describing things that happened unnumbered years ago, but I tell you it’s contemporary. You read about the flood, and you think: “Well, certainly that happened unnumbered (if it ever did happen) . . it happened unnumbered years ago.”

This morning, as is my custom, I turned on channel KFAC. That is a radio station that plays through the day and night, twenty-four hours a day, only lovely classical music; so you can read to that music . . only a few interruptions. On the hour, you get a five-minute bulletin and weather report. But between 9:00 and 10:00 o’clock there is always a lovely piano recital, as it were . . the great masterpieces played by great artists. So I can sit down with my Bible and read as I listen to the music. And the one interruption that came today was an ad from the Herald-Examiner. They were advertising this paper as the one paper in our city that gives the facts . . only facts, not embellished, no frills . . just plain fact, all facts. That’s why we should buy that paper, because it is simply filled with facts.

Well, facts have overflowed the world like the flood. Man actually is “drowned” with facts, victimized by facts. It is in the Imagination that everything lives, and not in its actuality, not in the fact. Unless Imagination penetrates the facts, the deluge remains a deluge. We are now in the deluge. This is the flood!

A man is in jail. That’s a fact. And he knows he’s there for “x” number of years; that’s a fact. And he simply waits and hopes that in some strange way he will get some early release from this confinement. He never uses his Imagination, save in some violent way to get out, but not to penetrate the fact. When in March of 1943, by using my Imagination to penetrate the fact I, too, was in “prison” in the Army, but I didn’t want any part of it. So, I simply penetrated the fact and saw myself in New York City, in my own apartment with my family. And in nine days I was out, honorably discharged, in my apartment in New York City.

I wrote a friend of mine who was in the army. He was my age. He was a Freudian, . . a professional psychoanalyst, but Freud was his background. That was his schooling. When I wrote him in detail exactly what I had done (I didn’t mince matters; I told him exactly what I did): as I physically slept on my little bed in the barracks, I imagined I was simply elsewhere. The “elsewhere” was a definite spot in space: New York City, in my apartment. I told him what I did. I could “feel” the bed. I could “feel” the things in my house. I went about feeling all the familiar objects in my apartment, and I gave it all the tones of reality and all the sensory vividness to the best of my ability. I “touched” everything, and it felt real, and then I went back to sleep. Then I told exactly what happened to me that morning; and then nine days later, I was honorably discharged by the same man who had disallowed my application.

He didn’t answer my letter. In New York City he used to come to my meetings as a friend because he was so convinced that the Freudian concept was true. He said: “I come to your meetings for this reason, Neville …” (We knew each other well. He’d come home for dinner; I’d go to his place for dinner) … but he said: “I come to your meetings because you turn my daily

bread into the substance of fairy. I sort of like that,” he said. “But when I listen to you I hold the chair and I put my feet right firmly on the ground to feel the reality and the profundity of things. You aren’t going to take me away with you. You are going to leave me right here where things are solidly real, so I feel the place under my foot and I feel the things next to my hands. I hold on tightly while you weave your story concerning moving off in one’s imagination.” He would not penetrate the facts. So, when did he get out? When the other millions got out. So he remained with his facts for the next three years! I got out in March of 1943; he came home to New York City in 1946, demobilized as the other millions and millions of boys were. He could not let go [of] the facts. This is the flood . . there is no other flood . . this is the flood. We are “drowned” with facts, victimized by them.

Now, does the Bible teach this story of getting through the facts using my Imagination? It certainly does. Let me take you into the 27th chapter of the book of Genesis (the first book, the Book of the Beginnings). If you are not familiar with the story of Isaac and his two sons (they were twins) let me just refresh your memory if you have forgotten it. It is said in the story that Isaac had (that is, his wife Rebecca had) the two sons, but he was the father of the two sons, Esau and Jacob. It is said that Esau was a hairy one. He came first. And then Jacob came second, and he had no hair. He was completely hairless, while Esau was covered in hair from head to foot; but he was the first. One was called Esau, and one was called Jacob because he came second and supplanted the other.

Now we are told that when the father, Isaac, was old and his eye was dim so that he could not see (in other words, he was blind), he said to his son Esau:

“I cannot see and my days are numbered. I want you to go into the fields and hunt and bring me some well-prepared, tasty venison as I like it, savory venison.” We are told that Rebecca (who loved her second son more than she did the first) overheard the conversation between Esau and his father. And then because she loved Jacob and wanted Jacob to get the blessing … for the father feels his days are numbered and he must now give his blessing to one of his sons, and the first one must get it.

So the mother told Jacob what she had heard and then suggested that: “… we take one of the kids from the flock and we kill it and take the skins of the kid and put it upon you, so that you will have the appearance of Esau.” Jacob thought otherwise. “Suppose my father discovers it?” And the mother said: “Leave that to me. It will be on my shoulder if he discovers it,” and sent Jacob into the field to bring the kid.