He was 4 years old and it was his third birthday party in two days. And I said did you have a good time with your cousin? She was not his cousin but someone he met waiting here to get born. Where was that I asked. Here he said in Etherall.
When I penciled a copy of our talk, I spent time searching unsuccessfully for this place. Years later I found that what was intended was heaven’s Ethers.
There is a quality or talent in some that goes beyond what is considered common. It is something within that allows them to trust a one who is safe, who will not hurt. Four legged creatures these persons include quickly and they are seldom wrong. If we are observant, it is the same talent but adversely in others, that makes them turn tail and run.
We make this decision to come to this planet to make a difference, to make a better life for all. But we forget how much work it is. It is a matter of belief systems and we hope ours is well integrated and not prone to attach us to other’s dogma.
It becomes a time to listen.
It is not as easy as it seems. Try to think, to place in mind a picture of a Being other than human. We have our science fiction writers who give us caricatures of what they suppose we would accept. The images in fact may be actual. Consider that.
I had awakened from a nap that had a familiar feel to it one very cold day in March when we lived in the North. I had a messed up knee and needed to lay the body down for awhile. I knew the place of the dream though I could not name it if pressed. It was not in this particular world or enclosure where I am. But when I awakened I kept feeling my hands as if they were foreign to me. 
Like my hands are miraculous. I have been feeling them within each palm and my fingers had a sensation to them that was amazing. My fingers laced with one another and I was surprised at what they do. And are they not a wondrous piece of work? With smooth and supple fingers that I had never appreciated before.
How long had it taken me to come to this minute where my hands seem like an intricate blueprint of some great mind. It had taken me a lifetime to note this. As I sit here and give houseroom to Beings other than human because we talk of other worlds, envision what you are able of how life in other worlds different than ours might be fashioned. What would life be like in a place where none of our essentials exist and bodies are like nothing we view in the mirror. Yet soulful with intelligence struggling for expression where words have not been born. A species of life with no name yet. Was that our beginning?
There is unfinished work everywhere. If asked, would we be willing with our tools, whatever we have mastered to take only in mind upon transiting this Earth, to be one for the vineyards? Or would we rush for the exit that would take us right back to where the toys are plenty? And what if we find ourselves in a not so lush Eden as the previous trip? We must stretch our thinking for the rules are changing. We must in times of quiet give thought to where the Indwelling God will take us.
It is time to listen.
I later scribed. . . Your thought is that it is about belief systems. Not really so simple, because it becomes murky. You are reminded that the world awards systems that it identifies. The belief system that is built on one’s self, it berates as non-productive and uninvolved. For the business of the world to get on, for the noble experiment what is man to stay off the cutting room floor, it must award the high profile. But for man to survive the rip within, to keep him out of the hospital wards and off the public rolls, the thinker, the one who subjects himself to inner scrutiny, private scrutiny, had best stay around.