Spiritist Review — 1861 · Allan Kardec
Chapter 64 of 131
The separation of the Spirit
Body of mire, hearth of corruption where ferments the leaven of impure passions; it is its organs that often drag the Spirit toward the brutal sensations that concern matter. When the principle of organic life is extinguished by one of the thousand accidents to which the body is subject, the Spirit detaches itself from the bonds that held it to its fetid prison, and behold, it is free in space.
Nevertheless it happens that, when ignorant, and especially when it is very guilty, a thick veil conceals from it the beauties of the abode where the good Spirits dwell, and it finds itself alone or in the company of cruel and inferior Spirits, in a circle that permits it neither to see where it arrives, nor to remember where it comes from. Then it feels uneasy, suffering, ill at ease, until, in a more or less long time, its brothers, the Spirits, come to enlighten it about its position and open its eyes so that it may remember the world of the Spirits, which it inhabited, and the different planets, where it will undergo its various incarnations; if the last was well conducted, it opens to it the doors of the superior worlds; but if it was useless and full of iniquities, it is punished by remorse. Only after the Spirit has bowed to the anger of God, through its repentance and through the prayer of its brothers, does it begin to live again, which is not a happiness, but a punishment or a trial. Ferdinand.
Familiar Spirit.
Allan Kardec.
Paris. — Typ. H. CARION, rue Bonaparte, 64.