R. Neville Johnston - The Language Codes

The

Language

Codes

R. Neville Johnston

First published in 2000 by

Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC

500 Third Street, Suite 230

San Francisco, CA 94107

Copyright 2000 R. Neville Johnston

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from Red Wheel/Weiser. Reviewers may quote brief passages.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

ISBN-10: 1-57863-144-0

ISBN-13: 978-1-57863-144-5

Johnston, R. Neville.

The language codes / R. Neville Johnston.

p. cm.

Includes index.

ISBN 1-57863-144-0

1. Self-actualization (Psychology)Miscellanea. 2. Language and languagesMiscellanea. I. Title.

BF1045.S44 J64 2000
131--dc21 99-089150

Typeset in 10.5/13 Carmina

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

MG

10 9 8 7 6 5 4

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1992(R1997).

Dedication

TO DEDICATE SOMETHING is to acknowledge gratitude. Gratitude is an attribute of satisfaction. What do you call someone who is never satisfied? An ingrate. One who suffers from an addictive mentality has lost gratitude, i.e., the ability to be satisfied. How might you retrieve the ability to be satisfied? A method would be by deprivation. Let's address food addiction. Fast for a week and I will guarantee that you will be grateful for whatever it is that you eat at the end of that fast! Furthermore, it will be very satisfying! Are you a shopaholic? Don't spend for a month. It will be satisfing. Whatever the addictive behavior, cut it off. Use the thought that Self-Love = Self-Discipline, and simply do it. Grace x Action = Gratisfaction (satisfaction or gratification). After the fast, or after deleting the behavior, you can reset. It is the very nature of rebirth. Here it is as math: If you are grateful for something, it is therefore satisfying. If you are satisfied, you are grateful: Satisfaction = Gratification.

If I were to dedicate this book to everything I am grateful for, there wouldn't be a tree left standing on this planet. I shall abridge the list: God, the Universe, my soul, my mind, my body, all my family, my father, my daughters Grace and Caramai, and their mother Ariane, all my friends, everyone who buys this book, everyone who suggests that others buy this book, everyone who attends my seminars, everyone who watches my TV show (Telepathic TV, that's television that you watch with your Third Eye), anyone who never again uses the word need, everyone who loves me and everyone I love, which is, of course everyonefor I have never met a human being I didn't find fascinating.

Preface

ONE WARM SPRING DAY (in 1977), I am with a beautiful actress. We are leaving the theater where we are thespians. Then suddenlyI am shot to death. A man, a total stranger, appears in front of us with a gun. He shoots me three times. I'll hear those shots for the rest of my life. The one that hits my head turns out to be fatal.

A few moments before this, I am feeling very good, looking forward to the next adventure the evening will hold. The night air is very warm and, pardon the pun, muggy. As we approach the top of the steps of this literally underground theater, a man comes straight toward us, a chrome pistol in his hand.

Thinking it's a robbery, I begin to reach for my wallet. The next thing I know, I am looking at a hole in my new silk shirt. Looking at the wound, my brain is saying, Look, that's the dermis, epidermis, yuck fatty layer, muscle. Wow, I have a muscle! That dark hole must be the inside of my stomach.

I look up to see what is happening. A second bullet hits my hip, and ricochets down into my left leg. It's still there today. Where is this coming from? As I look in the direction of the first two bullets, I see hairs from my head falling in front of my eyes. The bullet that impacted my cranium cut the follicles as it passed through the scalp/ skull. I feel the warm gush of blood flooding down my forehead. I feel zero pain.

The man is running away. I am standing there watching him disappear into the crowd by the entrance to the theater. I look down to see a body lying there. It is wearing my clothes, lying in a puddle of blood, no eye movement. HummIt's me!

I'm thinking to myself, Gee, this is the best astral projection that I've ever done. Ah, this may not be the best time to be astrally projecting; there may be some restriction on getting back into my body. I realize that an alarm bell is sounding. In fact, very loudly. HummThat's my old high school fire drill alarmPlaying here? Upon my realization that it is justa memory tape, the bell stops.

The next thought is, Dust collects up. I never realized that dust collects on the ceiling. I know this because it's tickling my nose. During the entire experience my conscious stream of thought never stops. The following thought is being in a room filled with white light.

I never experienced the tunnel that people talk about. The tunnel is an illusion that is created by looking at the light and then looking all around. I am just there.

Now because there is a brain between me and the white light, the light becomes an angel. Over the years I have done a lot of research into near death experiences (NDEs). The being who meets you, after death, has to do with your belief system. It could be Charon with the ferry across the river Styx, if you are a pagan. It could be Grandpa or an elder clan member if you worship ancestors in the Chinese or Native American traditions. Shamans who have passed over will take on the role of greeting in many tribal cultures. Whomever you meet, it is someone with whom you feel perfectly safe.

The being that is greeting me has the clearest blue eyes I've ever seen. Let's call him St. Peter. He is literally looking through a book, the book of my life, my file. I immediately begin the Guilty Dance saying, I may not be doing the best possible job down there, given my talents and the circumstances. Besides, I'm an only child and if my mother hears that I've been shot down this way it could kill her. Is there something that can be done?

He says, Chill. My angels speak to me in a sort of street vernacular. I immediately cease the guilty dance and am silent. A great calm comes over me. I feel very safe. He explains that the life I have just lived was just one more suit of clothes. It could easily be laid aside, meaning that this is just one more facet in my central soulone more aspect of the wonderfulness of myself.

He says something that at the time totally exceeds my belief system. He says that those in heaven love many things about me. I could understand that they could like one thing, but love many things? I am amazed! What could they possibly love about me?

When the other soul shoots me, I forgive him on the spot. As the bullets enter my body, I am thinking, If this person has a father, he is an abusive alcoholic. I cannot believe he has ever experienced being loved and certainly not as a child. I could only feel sorry for that other soul because he has chosen such a path.