Cancer healed & other extraordinary experiences

Elizabeth Mayer writes: “The way I found the harp changed how I work as a clinician and psychoanalyst. It changed the nature of the research I pursued. It changed my sense of what’s ordinary and what’s extraordinary. Most of all, it changed my relatively established, relatively contented, relatively secure sense of how the world adds up. If dowser Harold McCoy did what he appeared to have done, I had to face the fact that my notions of space, time, reality, and the nature of the human mind were stunningly inadequate. Disturbing as that recognition was, there was something intriguing, even exciting, about it as well.

“Weeks after I’d published my first tentative foray into exploring mind-matter anomalies, a physician I barely knew came up to me at a professional meeting. He’d read my article and wanted to tell me something. The story poured out. He’d been diagnosed 20 years earlier with fatal bone cancer and had become deeply depressed. As a marathon runner, he’d found relief from despair only while he ran. Early one morning, two hours into his run, he’d been suddenly overcome by what he described as a sensation of light—clear, soft light, as though the light was filling my bones, as though light and air were infusing each bone. I saw it—light penetrating those bones, right through to the marrow.

“The next week his X-rays were clean. I’ve never told another colleague, he said. I told my wife when it happened—no one else. And this part I didn’t tell anyone: I know that’s what cured me. The light crowded out the cancer cells. I don’t know how, but I know it did.

“As word of my new interest spread, my medical and psychoanalytic colleagues began to inundate me with accounts of their own anomalous experiences, personal as well as clinical. As with the physician, the stories they shared with me were often ones they’d never revealed to another professional associate. Their accounts—by email, snail mail, at conferences, and seminars, in hall corridors, or at dinner—made as little sense to me as they did to the colleagues telling me about them. The stories were all about knowing things in bizarrely inexplicable ways:

My patient walked in and I knew her mother had died—no clues—I just knew, instantly.

I woke up in the middle of the night like I heard a shot; the next day I found out it was when my patient took a gun and tried to kill herself.

I suddenly felt that my partner’s son was in trouble. I called my partner; it worried him enough that he tracked down his son. His son had been in a bad car accident and my partner got there just in time to make a decision about surgery that probably saved his life.

“I was particularly fascinated by how eagerly my colleagues shared even the most weirdly personal stories with me. Their eagerness puzzled me, until I realized how badly people wanted to reintegrate corners of experience they’d walled off from their public lives for fear of being disbelieved.

I was on a bus and all of a sudden found myself smelling the perfume my brother’s ex-wife used to wear. When the bus stopped, she got on. I hadn’t smelled that perfume or seen her in thirty years.

My husband and I fell in love with a house in London on our honeymoon—very distinctive, across from a park. Fourteen years later, living in Boston, I woke up one day, and thought, maybe we could buy it. I tracked down a realtor in London, asked if she could figure out the address and find out if it was for sale. Crazy! But she did. The man who’d been living there had just died; the For Sale sign wasn’t even up yet. We bought it the next week.

“I was somewhat stalled with one deeply troubled patient, Mayer writes, “a woman who was isolated and very frightened of the world. For years she’d insisted she couldn’t remember any of her dreams, and indeed she’d reported almost none to me through our work together. Then, during one session, she told me that the night before she’d dreamed of my going to Arizona. I had indeed been planning a trip to Arizona that week, but I’d told none of my colleagues or patients about it.

“I asked her, why Arizona? She had no idea, no associations. I told her that I was in fact going to Arizona and wondered if she somehow picked that up. For a moment, she was quiet. Then she hesitantly told me that she often had dreams in which she knew where people were going, and it turned out she was right.

“She couldn’t begin to explain it. She’d learned not to tell people; it was too weird. She had had dreams like that as a child and her parents had raged at her and called her crazy. They would sometimes beat her until she said she’d made it all up. So she’d learned to shut up and started pretending that she didn’t have dreams, that a lot of things she experienced weren’t real. Pretending to others, and to herself, had made her feel safe, but it had also made her feel she wasn’t real.

“That exchange with my patient was a turning point in her psychotherapy. It was also a turning point for me. My evident curiosity about her dream had liberated a flood of experiences. As my patient started believing that I could believe her—and considered her neither crazy nor dangerous—a new world opened up between us. She began for the first time telling me about other bizarrely intuitive experiences, and about how they terrified her. Bit by bit, her comfort in the world took new root. Her life changed in profoundly positive ways. She told me that she started feeling she could be real.

“My patient’s fear—of being unable to credit the evidence before her eyes, of being thought crazy, of losing the comfort of being believed—began to take on an enormous resonance for me. I still wanted to make sense of my own experience with the harp. But I also wanted to understand more about why our culture is so fearful about anomalous experiences.

Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer, Extraordinary Knowing: Science, Skepticism, and the Inexplicable Powers of the Human Mind (Bantam Books, 2007).

Extraordinary Knowing

Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer was a psychoanalyst and professor of clinical psychology at the University of California Berkeley and in the psychiatry department at the University of California Medical Center, San Francisco before her death at age 57 in 2005. “She was a fellow of the International Consciousness Research Laboratories at Princeton, on the research faculty of the Institute for Health and Healing at California Pacific Medical Center, and a visiting scholar in Human Development at Harvard University.”* Mayer saw herself as a cautious scientist as well as a caring counselor, whose inquisitive nature led her to research anomalous knowing and then to affirm its reality. As she began to publish her research, other scientists contacted her to share their experiences and for advice about making sense of these anomalous and transformative experiences of knowing. She relates several of these conversations in her book "Extraordinary Knowing."

Mayer writes: “In 1991 I was doing research on female development and seeing patients in my psychoanalysis practice. I was a training and supervising analyst in the American Psychoanalytic Association. I was busy and fulfilled, and life was running along the way it does.

“My eleven-year-old daughter, Meg, who had fallen in love with the harp at age 6, had begun performing. She wasn’t playing a classical pedal harp but a smaller, extremely valuable instrument built and carved by a master harp maker. After a Christmas concert, her harp was stolen from the theater where she was playing. For two months we went through every conceivable channel trying to locate it: the police, instrument dealers across the country, the American Heart Association newsletters—even a CBS TV news story. Nothing worked.

“Finally, a wise and devoted friend told me, ‘If you really want that harp back, you should be willing to try anything. Try calling a dowser.’ The only thing I knew about Dowsers was that they were that strange breed who locate underground water with forked sticks. But according to my friend, the ‘really good’ dowser can locate lost objects as well.

“Finding lost objects with forked sticks? Well, nothing was happening on the police front, and my daughter, spoiled by several years of playing an extraordinary instrument, had found the series of commercial harps we’d rented simply unplayable. So, half-embarrassed but desperate, I decided to take my friend’s dare. I asked her if she could locate a really good dowser—the best, I said. She promptly called the American Society of Dowsers and came back with the phone number of the society’s current president: Harold McCoy, in Fayetteville, Arkansas.

“I called him that day. Harold picked up the phone—friendly, cheerful, heavy Arkansas accent. I told him I’d heard he could dowse for lost objects and that I’d had a valuable harp stolen in Oakland, California. Could he help locate it?

Give me a second, he said. I’ll tell you if it’s still in Oakland. He paused, then: Well, it’s still there. Send me a street map of Oakland and I’ll locate that harp for you. Skeptical—but what, after all, did I have to lose?—I promptly overnighted him a map. Two days later he called back. Well, I got that harp located, he said. It’s in the second house on the right on D------ Street, just off L------ Avenue.

“I’d never heard of either street. But I did like the sound of the man’s voice. And I don’t like backing down on a dare. Why not drive to the house he’d identified? At least I’d get the address. I looked on an Oakland map and found the neighborhood. It was miles from anywhere I’d ever been. I got in my car, drove into Oakland, located the house, wrote down the number, called the police, and told them I’d gotten a tip that the harp might be at that house. Not good enough for a search warrant, they said. They were going to close the case—there was no way this unique, portable, and highly marketable item hadn’t already been sold; it was gone forever.

“But I found I couldn’t quite let it go. I decided to post flyers in a two-block area around the house, offering a reward for the harp’s return. It was a crazy idea, but why not? I put up fliers in those two blocks, and only those two blocks. I was embarrassed enough about what I was doing to tell just a couple of close friends about it.

“Three days later, my phone rang. A man’s voice told me he’d seen a flyer outside his house describing a stolen harp. He said it was exactly the harp his next-door neighbor had recently obtained and showed him. He wouldn’t give me his name or number, but offered to get the harp returned to me. And two weeks later, after a series of circuitous telephone calls, he told me to meet a teenage boy at 10:00 p.m., in the rear parking lot of an all-night Safeway.

“I arrived to find a young man loitering in the lot. He looked at me, and said, The Harp? I nodded. Within minutes, the harp was in the back of my station wagon and I drove off. Twenty-five minutes later, as I turned into my driveway, I had the thought: This changes everything.

Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer, Extraordinary Knowing: Science, Skepticism, and the Inexplicable Powers of the Human Mind (Bantam Books, 2007)

 

*Kathy Pfrommer, “Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer, 57, Dies,” East Bay Times (Jan. 5, 2005), https://www.eastbaytimes.com/2005/01/05/elizabeth-lloyd-mayer-57-dies/.

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NDEs have renewed my Christian Faith

Not long after my mother died, my father during surgery suffered a cardiac arrest. As the physicians worked on his unconscious body, he “awoke” floating above the operating table―seeing the physicians working frantically to revive him and hearing their voices. Then he found himself moving through a dark tunnel toward a bright light, where he saw my mother, smiling and waiting. As he came near to her and into the light, he felt an overwhelming sense of being loved and forgiven. But my mother communicated to him that it wasn’t his time yet, and then he floated back through the darkness and into his aching body.

For several years my father didn’t tell anyone of this extraordinary experience, but finally he shared it with me. Trained as a scientist, he had no way to explain his near-death consciousness during his cardiac arrest under general anesthesia. His life was altered, however, by what he experienced and remembered. My father was not a religious man, but his near-death experience (NDE) left him without any fear of death. Also, I believe, he became more loving and accepting. At age 90, when a second stroke left him unable to swallow, he told me his time had come. He asked that his IV be disconnected and that a Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) order be entered into his medical record. After a day without water or food, he slipped into a coma and three days later died peacefully.

My father’s NDE not only changed his life, but mine as well. Since his death I have read many accounts of near-death experiences and studied the research reported by physicians and other scientists. My father’s experience and my research have also affected my recent writing about faith, consciousness, and science. My essays are available online primarily on two of my four web sites, but especially on the web site at www.doingfaith.com. I cannot adequately summarize all these readings and how they have changed my thinking, but here are few paragraphs that try . . .

First, I am now convinced we are souls having a human experience, rather than human beings who some believe have souls. By “soul” I mean living-perceiving-meaning moments of consciousness that come from (and in this life continue to be part of) the sustaining timeless source of all living-perceiving-meaning. NDEs such as my father’s verify an enhanced consciousness that is not the result of brain activity—and in fact seems to require the loss of ordinary consciousness. NDE survivors affirm we all are part of an enhanced and endlessly creating consciousness.

Physicists describe this unfolding or evolving consciousness as the nonlocal background for all that is. In the words of Christian teaching, we “live and move and have our being” in “the kingdom of God.” This kingdom, of course, is immaterial, but hints of it enter our material experience. NDEs especially reveal the power and purposes of this spiritual realm, or what several of the authors in this collection call “the Other Side.” I believe the Light my father and millions of others have experienced during an NDE confirms the Christian witness that “nothing can separate us from the love of God”—whether we are Christians or participate in other religious traditions or are agnostics or atheists.  

Second, I know that our purpose in this life is to grow in the Light of this unconditional Love. In every moment, in the trials of living and dying, and in all our relationships, this is our challenge and opportunity. We always have a choice to love creatively, with courage and hope. We can strive to be forgiving, as we have been forgiven. We can embrace our living and dying with gratitude and joy. Each of us has our own fate—a calling to our individual quest to wrest faith and hope from suffering. Yet, we all are One in this extraordinary adventure.

Along the way each of us will have guides from the Other Side—from loving angels or caring ancestors or other beings. Or from what psychologists identify as our unconscious. This guidance will usually be ambiguous, as we each must find our own way. Our evolving-loving-consciousness is part of the timeless evolving-loving-consciousness that gives meaning and purpose to all reality. I encourage you to look for your guidance in prayer, meditation, humor, art, music, and children, as well as in your disappointments.

Third, I am filled with hope that we come from and will return home to the everlasting Light offering unconditional Love. We enter life on earth with a purpose, I now believe, and whether or not this purpose is fulfilled we will end our embodied experience on earth with a forgiving life review and new insights into the meaning of our cosmic adventure. 

 

The photo shows my father and oldest child, Kim Traer. I'm grateful for the lessons I've learned from each of them.

NDEs have real effects

Kenneth Ring’s main focus in Lessons from the Light is on the after effects experienced by NDE survivors. He writes: “These studies show that whatever the nature of the NDE, it is real in its effects.” NDE survivors often “say that following their experience, they did not become more religious, but more spiritual. By this, they seem to mean that the formal aspects of religion—in the sense of organized religion—become less important to them and a more universal and inclusive spirituality that embraces everyone comes to exert a deeper hold on their allegiance.

“Many NDErs afterward tell us that they find they have become unusually sensitive to light, sound, humidity, and a variety of other environmental stimuli or conditions. Taste sensitivity increases, and one’s tolerance for alcohol and pharmaceutical drugs diminishes. Not surprisingly, NDErs report more allergies. Also, a large proportion of these persons discover, for instance, that digital wristwatches will no longer work properly for them, or they ‘short out’ electrical systems in their cars, or computers and appliances malfunction for no apparent reason." (126-30)

What is known as “the life review” has a significant effect on many NDE survivors. Ring writes: “While it is true that there is an aspect to the life review in which one watches the scenes of one’s life like a spectator, many persons report that at the same time they are in these scenes and are living through them as if they are actually experiencing them again.

One NDE survivor recalls: What occurred was every emotion I have felt in my life, I felt. And my eyes were showing me the basis of how that emotion had affected my life. What my life had done so far to affect other people’s lives, using the feelings of pure love that was surrounding me as the point of comparison. And I had done a terrible job. God, I mean it! Looking at yourself from the point of how much love you have spread to other people is devastating’. (Ring, Heading toward Omega, 71.)

“For the experiencer, the life review is not only a personal revelation or an insight into principles of cosmic relevance, but also a healing. Not just what you see about yourself, but how you come to see and understand it is what heals you of what may be long-standing feelings of inadequacy and patterns of self-defeating behavior. The result is a kind of forgiveness of oneself and others that returns you to your authentic self." (147-98)

Finally, Ring writes, NDE survivors have no fear of death. “Those facing death do not fear it; they know the Light awaits them. Those who wish to take their own life learn that it is impossible to do so; there is only life. Those who grieve are comforted and sometimes even transformed. And those blessed with a vision of a loved one who has left them know with certitude that their beloved still lives and that the connection has not been broken.

I looked further down the tunnel and saw the light. I realized immediately where I was. The light was home. I knew that I could only return here. There was no question of losing this place. It was home, and I, and everyone else, came here and there was no possible way to avoid it or miss it. It was the only thing that was guaranteed, returning here.

Ring concludes, by affirming: “the true promise of the NDE is not so much what it suggests about an afterlife—as inspiring and comforting as those glimpses are—but what it says about how to live now." (248-82)

Kenneth Ring and Evelyn Elsaesser Valarino, Lessons from the Light: What We Can Learn from the Near-Death Experience (Insight Books, 1998; Moment Point Press, 2006).

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NDEs are not hallucinations

Psychologist Kenneth Ring notes that in every NDE he have considered, “the individual encounters some kind of a presence within the Light, someone or something that gives the impression of having an omniscient knowledge of the person and an infinite solicitude for his or her welfare and future well-being.

“When we nearly die, then, we find that we are not alone and presumably have never been alone. We have someone or something that appears to guide us benevolently, albeit invisibly, in our life on this earth, but that can intervene at critical moments and, as in the near-death state, manifest clearly into our awareness. This in itself is profoundly reassuring.

Ring counters the critics who claim these experiences are hallucinations by citing examples of detailed perceptions by NDE survivors that were verified. An audiologist, whose myopic vision meant he couldn’t see much without his glasses, had during military service the following OBE experience—without his glasses on.

I had had a spinal injury and was undergoing what was supposed to have been an uncomplicated cleansing and scraping procedure [when complications developed]. I sensed something turning sour in my system and literally yelled in my mind, ‘Hey, guys, you’re losing me!’ [Then] I just floated upward to the top of the canvas tent and looked down at the scene. I saw the dust on the supposedly clean and sterile OR lights, someone just outside smoking a cigarette, the near-panic of the medical staff, and the expression of the big, black Air Force corpsman who was called to come in to forklift me in his arms while others beat me on my back. He had a clearly discernible scar on the top of his closely cropped head, in the form of a small cross. He was the only one not wearing a facemask, having been summoned on the spur of the moment.

A South African man with double pneumonia was in hospital and became friendly with a nurse. Later, he told Ring:

While I was in a coma (and I believe clinically dead), my friend, the nurse, was killed in an automobile accident. I met her on the Other Side. She asked me to return, promised I would meet a loving wife, and asked that I tell her parents she still loved them and was sorry she wrecked her twenty-first birthday present (a red MGB). Needless to say, when I told the nursing staff upon my return that I knew Nurse van Wyk had been killed and the car she had been killed in was a red MGB (something only her parents knew) while I was “dead,” people started to sit up and take notice.

Kenneth Ring and Evelyn Elsaesser Valarino, Lessons from the Light: What We Can Learn from the Near-Death Experience (Insight Books, 1998; Moment Point Press, 2006), 64-68.

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Steve's near-death experience transformed his life

Steve also shared his experience with Kenneth Ring’s class on NDEs. Ring explains: “In 1975, when Steve was twenty-four, he underwent oral surgery in which some impacted wisdom teeth were to be removed. Before the procedure, Steve was injected with a sedative in his left arm and was later given sodium pentothal. That did not seem to take, and the surgeon, with some exasperation, then injected a total of four cartridges. After the surgery was completed—some two hours later!—Steve was taken to a windowless, postoperative recovery room and, while there, had his experience.

I awakened from the surgery, blinded by a river of white light. I thought it was an aftereffect of the general anesthesia. I thought it was odd that it pushed beyond my optic nerve and went through my entire body. I immediately rose to my feet and looked at the nurse who had helped me up.

She wasn’t a nurse. She was clothed in light, extraordinarily beautiful and loving. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I almost cry when I think about it. The light that shone from the center of her was gloriously beautiful. I looked back and down at my body, still lying on the recovery couch under a blanket. Here I was, standing beside a being of light, looking at my body.

Before I reasoned it through, she intercepted my thoughts. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not dead. You’re quite alive. Your heart is still beating. Look!’ I looked. I could see the chambers emptying and filling with blood. I could see the vascular system and the life-sustaining materials working their way through the entire body.

She had a veil of energy at her back, which separated her world from mine. She said, ‘It’s a one-way path. If you go through there, you can’t come back here. Your life will be over, and you won’t have done the things you need to do.’ Brilliant shards of light in all colors danced around the opening. They appeared and disappeared, as if the light energy was being fragmented and shattered at the contact point between two worlds at different energy levels.

She showed me some details about my children [who were not yet born] and revealed a view of another woman even more lovely and desirable—the wife I was married to. She then said it was time to return, that my breathing had stabilized, and that my nervous system was able to work on its own. I saw her light begin to withdraw from me as she retreated from my view. This light persisted for two or three seconds as I awakened, while my wife was holding my face in her hands.

The NDE changed Steve’s life. I felt tremendously ignorant. I started buying books. I filled up notebooks on histories of different nations, on archeology, and on philosophies. I found I could memorize and play a Bach prelude and fugue with only a few hours of preparation, whereas before I had to struggle for weeks to learn a piece of music.

My family found my changed viewpoint unbearable. My ability to see the future, and my tendency to react and answer the private thoughts and intentions of my father’s business associates, rather than their outward, polished manners, was very disturbing to everyone.

I can’t watch TV cop shows. I think it’s obscene to show a killing without remorse. My teenagers and I have a running battle about their TV selections.

I love God more than anything. But I almost can’t go to church. I can’t relate to the shame and guilt in the lessons. The discussions on guilt and sin don’t hold any relevance for me, and don’t make me happy. They don’t fit into any of the experiences I’ve had. I tried opening these subjects gently and cautiously with local church leaders, but they didn’t respond well.”

 

Kenneth Ring and Evelyn Elsaesser Valarino, Lessons from the Light: What We Can Learn from the Near-Death Experience (Insight Books, 1998; Moment Point Press, 2006), 36-40.

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Her NDE "life review" filled her with compassion

Psychologist Kenneth Ring writes: “For the past ten years I have been teaching a course on the near-death experience (NDE) at my university. Every semester, thirty-five to forty young undergraduates arrive at my classroom on the first day of the new term, usually somewhat nervous about taking such an offbeat course but generally enthusiastic and curious about the topic that has already excited their interest.

Ring invited Laurelynn Glass Martin to share her NDE with his class. “Laurelynn, who is now in her thirties, began by explaining how her life changed when she was a senior in college. She had gone into the hospital to have what was supposed to be a routine twenty-minute laparoscopic surgical procedure. However, her physician, as she learned later, exerted undue force making the initial incision, puncturing her abdominal aorta, her right iliac artery, the inferior vena cava, and her bowel in two places, ultimately hitting her vertebral spine. As a result, Laurelynn lost almost 60 percent of her blood—and her pulse and, obviously, nearly her life.

Without any warning, Laurelynn recalls, she suddenly found herself floating above her physical body, off to the right side, observing with detachment, the efforts of the medical team to revive her lifeless form.

The surgical team was frantic. Red was everywhere, splattered on their gowns, splattered on the floor, and a bright pool of flowing red blood, in the now-wide-open abdominal cavity. I couldn’t understand what was going on down there. I didn’t even make the connection, at that moment, that the body being worked on was my own. It didn’t matter anyway. I was in a state of freedom, having a great time.

I then traveled to another realm of total and absolute peace. There was no pain, but instead a sense of well being, in a warm, dark, soft space. I was enveloped by total bliss in an atmosphere of unconditional love and acceptance. The darkness was beautiful, stretching on and on. The freedom of total peace was intensified beyond any ecstatic feeling ever felt here on earth. In the distance, I saw a horizon of whitish-yellowish light. I find it very difficult to describe where I was, because the words we know here in this plane just aren’t adequate enough.

I was admiring the beauty of the light but never got any closer because next I felt a presence approaching from my right, upper side. I was feeling even more peaceful and happy, especially when I discovered it was my thirty-year-old brother-in-law who had died seven months earlier. Although I couldn’t see with my eyes or hear with my ears, I instinctively knew it was him.

He didn’t have a physical form, but a presence. I could feel, hear, and see his smile, laughter, and sense of humor. It was as if I had come home, and my brother-in-law was there to greet me. I instantly thought how glad I was to be with him because now I could make up for the last time I had seen him before his death. I felt bad about not taking the time out of my busy schedule to have a heart-to-heart talk with him when he had asked me to. I felt no remorse now, but total acceptance and love from him about my actions.

“Reflecting on her behavior toward her brother-in-law seems to lead Laurelynn back further into her life and, before she knows it, events from her childhood begin to appear to her, all at once, yet in chronological order. In one, she says: I had teased a little girl my own age (five years old) to the point of tears. I was now in a unique position to feel what that little girl had felt. Her frustration, her tears, and her feeling of separateness were now my feelings. I felt a tremendous amount of compassion for this child. I hadn’t realized that by hurting another, I was really just hurting myself.

Other thoughts were conveyed to me, and I remember thinking, ‘Wow; now I get it. Everything about our existence makes sense.’ I finally got around to questioning my brother-in-law (not with words but more [like] transference) about what was happening and asked him if I could stay. He told me it wasn’t my time yet, that there had been a mistake, and that I had to go back. I remember thinking, ‘Okay, I’ll go back, but I know how I can get back up here.’

At the same instant, his thoughts were mine, saying: ‘You can’t take your own life (suicide). That isn’t the answer, that won’t do it. You have to live your life’s purpose.’ I understood, but I still remember thinking, I don’t want to go back, and his thought came to me, saying, ‘It’s okay; we’re not going anywhere. We’ll be here for you again.’ The last thought of his was ‘Tell your sister I’m fine.’

I felt myself going back, dropping downward through darkness. I didn’t feel that I had a choice and was slammed into my body. I couldn’t believe I was returning to such a hellish environment, but then the beauty of the experience flooded back to me, giving me the most serene peace and calm I could hope for under the circumstances.

After the NDE, value changes came. I felt that the materialism and external stuff that was a big focus before just didn’t matter anymore. My priorities in life took a complete turnaround. I felt there was a purpose for my life, even down to the smallest detail of being kind to others spontaneously and freely, loving more deeply, [and] being nonjudgmental and accepting of one’s self and others. I also got a strong message about the importance of always seeking knowledge. I no longer fear death and, in fact, will welcome it when it is the right time—and that’s only for the universal, supreme power to decide. Until then, though, I try to enjoy each day like it’s my last and live more consciously in the moment.”

Kenneth Ring and Evelyn Elsaesser Valarino, Lessons from the Light: What We Can Learn from the Near-Death Experience (Insight Books, 1998; Moment Point Press, 2006), 27-32.

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