James Patrick Johnson was killed, “burned to a crisp,” in an anhydrous ammonia explosion thirty years ago, which he described in the February issue of The MOON: Beyond Death. Then—and eight times since—he has traveled “out of body” to “the other side,” where he has conferred with “angels, guides, and masters” who have attempted to explain reality to him.
Heart In The Clouds
Part of me is in constant contact with my angels, guides and masters, whom I now refer to as “the group.” We visit regularly, and they are often amused by how I perceive the happenings in this earth plane: My constant wonderings about why things have to be the way they are; why mankind makes such little progress in the areas that are most important—like feeding the world, building bridges of peace, and using our creativity and intelligence to free humanity from a system based on greed.
The masses seem to be suppressed by a very small minority of controllers. Why don’t our extraterrestrial neighbors step in to help us take the planet out of the hands of those who are bent on its destruction? Why don’t they help stop the genocide occurring on a daily basis on this blue marble we inhabit? Why are extremist religious groups allowed to promote hate between cultures of their fellow human beings? Why do so many seem to be blind to the real meaning and purpose of our existence?
I have pleaded, argued, and even demanded answers to so many questions. I shall share with you what they have shared with me.
The truth is, that if each of us knew who we actually are, conditions on this planet would transform almost instantly. Yet most of the human race remains distracted with so many things that are not truly important.
How we communicate
During my first stay in ICU at LSU Medical Center’s Burn Trauma Unit, I breathed through a respirator for nearly two months. My life was reduced to nothing but excruciating pain and the constant noise of the ventilator. It whooshed like a blacksmith’s bellow—loud and long—twenty-four hours a day.
I was unable to speak, yet at times the pain was so unbearable—even with morphine—that I called out telepathically for help. Most human beings do not realize the power of the mind, of thought. I would say with the voice of my mind, “Lord, you said you wouldn’t put more on me than I could handle. I can’t handle this.” Then the group would come to me and reduce the pain to a level that was all at once bearable. For me it was “the peace that passes understanding.”
When they came to me the first time, they reiterated what they had told me the day of the incident: that somehow I would survive and that they “were not finished with me yet.” They told me that I had agreed to this plan when I came into this plane.
They also showed me how to get outside of my fleshly container and the agony of my body. I did it without effort; it just happened. People have asked me to teach them how to do this, but I don’t know how to teach something I can’t explain in human terms. I usually just say, “Get quiet, pray and meditate. Find your inner peace.” This is where they meet you—the entities of a benevolent nature, the Christ and his helpers, the angels, guides, and masters. They are in service to others. They hold the love for all of us. Most people do not have a clue that we are surrounded by many other dimensional beings and the angels’ job is service.
Everyone has the ability to call on them. They are, in fact, around you all the time. Yet generally, if you don’t ask, they won’t act. This is one of the things about free will. On certain occasions they may have intervened on your behalf to save you from something that might have gotten in the way of you fulfilling the agreement you made when you came here. You made the agreement of your own free will, and so they act to preserve it–although you are free to choose the means and route by which you complete your agreement.
So we talk from time to time—usually at night, but sometimes, as necessary, in the daytime. Someone asked, “Patrick aren’t you afraid people might think you are a little crazy when you talk about such things?” I must confess I did lay low and not speak about these things for more than twenty-two years after the accident and my first meetings with them. There was always my human life to deal with, and no one else was talking about near-death experiences or out of body travels. So I just quietly pretended to be as distracted as everyone else.