How Far is the Next Choir?

As a general rule we can’t see into the borderzone. Sometimes individuals penetrate that region, but this almost always happens spontaneously: they aren’t trying. Some few travel deeply into the interior, others remain in the border region but on that side. We gain some knowledge from the experiences of such people. As a general rule, ordinary people credit such stories up to a point—especially if they hear them from trusted friends and family. The sophisticated classes in secular cultures laugh them off, dismiss them, and label those who report such things as mad or delusional. In religious times the sophisticated classes reserve the right to examine such people and either to approve of what they say or to lock them away.

The best known figure to claim such knowledge, himself of the sophisticated classes, was Emanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772), the man who conversed with angels and claimed to have visited both heaven and hell. His best known work, Heaven & Hell, is somewhat tedious reading (my complaints are here), but hard work will extract some interesting facts, not least how far it might be to the next choir of angels.

People associate with those they like—and, according to Swedenborg, this continues in the other world as well. In our realm we find this obvious. We spend our leisure with those who please and avoid those who annoy us. If it weren’t so, divorce would not exist, for instance. But in this realm we often have to deal with all kinds of people in order to earn a living and to develop.

But let us now suppose that certain necessities fall away after we die. Without bodies we wouldn’t need physical goods to sustain us. In subtle bodies we might be able to move without walking, driving, or catching flights. To reproduce Swedenborg’s claims, let’s make some assumptions. One is that in the beyond we’d still have perceptions and could orient ourselves in the subtle environment. Let’s assume next that we could move toward those places where we perceive pleasing experiences and away from those where we do not. And let’s add two more. One is that our speed of motion would depend on the strength of our desire (speed toward) or our revulsion (speed away from). Under this assumption, we would move rapidly if we felt strong attraction and slowly if the attraction were only mild. Finally, let’s assume that the source of pleasure or annoyance would come from other spirits in that realm—as here it comes from other people.

Swedenborg’s writings assert that what we here merely assume is actually a fact on the other side.

Now speed and distance are intimately linked. If I can get there rapidly, it’s near, if it takes a long time, it is far. Swedenborg thus projects what might be called a relativistic geography in the Beyond. How far or near certain kinds of communities are from us (that next choir of angels) is determined subjectively. It all depends on whether we are drawn to them or not. The old sage claims that people choose their own places in the afterlife—and do so by affinity. Those who seek hellish regions are drawn to them, enter them because they feel at home with those who are like them; those moving toward one of the multiple heavens that Swedenborg claims exist are also drawn in their direction. And many remain in the world of spirits, a kind of intermediate place, if place is the right word, because they are intimidated by the higher spheres and repelled by the lower.

How far to the next choir? If you like the music, it is near.