Near-drowning experience as a child

I was jumping off the top of a small dam into the river. I followed the example of some older boys who were doing it for fun. It was a dangerous and risky activity, but I thought I could do it successfully. My first few jumps off the dam were exhilarating. I just needed to be sure that I jumped out far enough to clear the cascade of water falling down from the dam. Otherwise, one could get pulled down under the water and pinned to the river bottom. 

Needless to say, I made too short of a jump, and fell into the cascading water. I was tumbled and pushed to the bottom of the river and pinned down flat by the water pressure. I tried to break free, but was not strong enough. I held my breath and thought to myself, 'This is it, I am going to die.' The moment I drew water into my lungs, I thought, 'Dying is so easy, only one breath-span between here and there.' It was soft, like gossamer on a butterfly's wing.

My life flashed before my eyes in rapid sequence, like flashcards or playing cards being ruffled quickly. All of my life moments, including the inconsequential moments as well as important instances. They all came flooding through. From the red canvas of my tennis shoes, to the wind and smell of the oak trees I loved to climb; everything I experienced was shown frame-by-frame in a part-second. I was suddenly pulled by many filaments located in the center of my chest. I went forward like a kite of a string, down through a tunnel or wormhole. I went extremely fast, like a bottle rocket - whoosh! I was flying toward a bright light at the end of the tunnel.

Then I was standing in bare feet on river sand. I was standing on the edge of a great river which flowed from left to right. It looked to be a couple of miles wide. Behind me were stabilized dunes with willow and alder trees, intermittently spaced along the rivers edge. There was grass in the dunes. I first looked for the sun, but found nothing that provided a light source for the daylight conditions. I then looked across the river, to see such an amazing world of mountains, trees, waterfalls, exotic flowers. Everywhere was green, green, green! It looked like our own natural world, but on steroids. There was so much life with colors, textures, light, and smells that were all in a state of absolute perfection and abundance. I could scarcely take it in.

Then whoooooooosh! I felt myself being pulled behind by the same filaments between my shoulder blades back through the wornhole. I found myself being resuscitated at the rivers edge. A couple of teenage boys had jumped into the water, found me, and pulled me out.  

NDERF.org

NDE experience of walking and being loved

I did not wake up for at least a day and maybe two or three days after surgery. I have a very rare disease that was misdiagnosed at the time. The pump that the surgeon was putting in, when working properly, helped people with both my actual disease and those with the disease I was misdiagnosed with. The technology was new at the time and the surgeon had never put one in before. Another doctor later told me that she thought the surgeon put too medicine in the pump at the time of surgery. Overdosing me with this drug can totally paralyze a person. That's why I didn't wake up and couldn't breathe effectively. Another anesthesiologist in another hospital thought that my disease negatively interacted with the anesthesia. He developed a different 'recipe' for anesthesia that was specific to people with my disease. Maybe it was both, the anesthesia and the pump drug together? No matter though because all my vital organs were compromised. The correct diagnosis is Moersch-Woltman syndrome, otherwise known as 'stiff person syndrome'.

Visitors were told that I was probably going to die. I don't remember how bad my breathing was, but a friend who was also a nurse came to visit me. She later told me that I was gasping for breath about four times a minute. Having witnessed death quite a bit, she thought that every breath was my last.

Meanwhile, I 'went' somewhere else.

I was in a thin and large transparent 'tube,' like a very thin membrane that I could see through. I was 'running' through the tube at light-speed, watching the stars and the universe go by. The amazing part, to me at the time, was that I could not walk at all, since I used a wheelchair and was completely stiffened . This experience of actually running was so freeing, so amazing, and so wonderful! Looking forward, the tube seemed endless as it was twisting away into eternal space. But I didn't care because I was so free, and with every running-step, it took me eons away. Then I was suddenly in a beautiful place. There was a meadow to my left as it descended down a rolling hill with wildflowers. There was a lush, green forest in the distance beyond the meadow.

There were two people there with me. Behind these people, was a stone wall covered with ivy. That wall separated me from everything else in front of me. I could not see over it or around it. One of the people was like a gardener with a rake. It seemed to me that he was absently raking the stones or the gravel in front of the wall. It reminded me of how Buddhists monks make calming designs in gravel. But I had the feeling that he was paying attention to what was happening with me and the other person. I later felt that this person, whose face I could never see, was probably my deceased father. My father and I had had a rocky relationship during my childhood and teenage years and up until the time he had died. I felt that he wanted to be there to know that I was o.k. and for me to know that he deeply loved me, in spite of some of the things that had happened between us. He died when I was age 21 and I never got to repair our relationship. I had always wanted to resolve my anger towards him and my deep fear of him.

The other person is difficult to describe. He was made of love. Everything about him exuded love and defined what love really is. He took me into his arms and just held me there. He fed me that love; that calm and peaceful love.

My life had been so painful for so long. I was trying so hard to just live for our young children. I was trying to maintain some sense of purpose rather than being a very sick and costly burden. That moment, when I was so gently held by this person, I felt healed of my deepest grieving and my greatest loneliness. I felt he had answered my most unasked questions, told me I was unquestionably and deeply valued and loved just as I was. It was all communicated to me without any words whatsoever.

Then I woke up in the ICU. 

NDERF.org

In motorcycle crash that kills her husband

My husband and I were riding our motorcycle when we had a terrible accident. During the accident, my body was slammed to the ground.

I left my body lying on the ground and found myself in a starry tunnel. I knew that if I let myself go all the way through it, I wouldn't come back. There was no fear or pain. I felt infinite love but at the same time I was focused on my struggle not to reach the end of the tunnel. I knew I didn't want to leave my children and that I needed to call emergency services for my husband.

As I began to fly through the tunnel, the first thing I noticed was that I was looking down on the embankment that we had crashed into. I felt the pull to go on further getting stronger and stronger. I saw a light appear at the end of the tunnel. But I kept fighting with all my strength to STOP and go no further.

Suddenly I was in a field of tall, beautiful, green grass that was undulating in waves—yet there was no wind. Overhead, the sky was pink/rosy/purple and I felt a strong sense of well-being, as if I were in a wonderful paradise—a sort of Garden of Eden.

I saw my husband walking towards me through the grass. We looked at each other and without talking, I understood that he had died. I knew that at this moment we had to say goodbye. He let me know that he will be waiting for me, but for now I need to care for our boys.

Then I was on the ground again, back in my body and feeling overwhelming pain. Despite my serious injuries, I got up and walked. I was afraid I would die if I let myself just lie there. I had nine broken ribs, a hemopneumothorax (air and blood in the chest cavity) one fractured vertebra, my thumb joint and my knee were seriously sprained, and both shoulder blades were broken.

When I was told that my husband had died in the accident, I already knew.  

NDERF.org
 

The light was love and understanding. I was home.

I had a bad asthma attack which landed me in the hospital. They gave me something which seemed a lot like the general anesthesia I was given for two surgeries later in life. It helped me to breathe, but I was tired, slipped away to sleep, and stopped breathing. I felt the sensation of some time passing. I also felt as though I was dreaming of seeing someone in a bed who was surrounded by doctors. But, there was a strange physical sensation as well, which is hard to describe. It troubled me and I could not wake from this dream.

I was floating above a person and didn't make the cognitive connection at first, that this was my body. I could see my mother in the corner of the room and became worried for her. It was about this time, when I realized this was not a dream, that I just wanted to go home. The next thing I knew, it was nighttime. I was outside the house and looking in the kitchen window. I could not get inside the house and I couldn't attract the attention of my family inside. This horrified me and some time passed. I was wandering around in the dark and eventually found others who were similarly confused as to where we where and what was going on. This is hard to explain, but we didn't really have a physical presence. I remember getting to know and understand these people as we were all going through this same experience together. It was like we were in a group and the lights were turned off. We knew that we were all still there but could not see one another. I guess that's the best way I can describe it. Some time passed here as well, but I was determined to find a way out for all of us which was probably absurd since I didn't know where we were.

From here on, all linearity kind of ends. I remember things, but it's like they all happened at once. Time ceased to exist. People have asked me if I remember a tunnel, and my answer is 'No, not exactly.' There was a light, kind of dim and from a distance. The light got closer and more intense. I felt a Love that brings tears to me as I write this. I wanted so much to go back and bring all of the others with me to this place, but I didn't really have control of it. As wonderful and amazing as this place felt, I was pretty much along for the ride. I don't know how much of this I can put into words of accurately describe. The light was love and understanding. It was outside of me, through me, and in me. It was home. I've never felt a love like this since, though there have been very brief moments of kindness and acceptance that I just live for. It's hard to see the computer screen for the tears in my eyes. I want so much to use all my will to reach back and pull those people in the darkness here to just be here, but I don't know how.

It's hard for me to describe what happened next. I was- and it was as if something else in side me, was speaking an a strange language but I understood it to be a recounting of this and past lives, kind of like and introduction to someone else. There was a life review where it was like a re-living of certain moments in my life up to this point. I felt with complete clarity how I felt and how the other person felt through my actions, my words, and my thoughts. These were times when I probably should have acted differently, used better judgement, not gotten caught up in emotion. This was a very humbling experience. To think I had only been here 7 years in this life- it concerns me what the next one will be like, because although I'm more aware of how I affect those around me; I still get emotional, I still screw up, and I'm well aware that this experience has not made me perfect...maybe more aware of how imperfect I am more than anything else, but it has not prevented me from being stupid, insensitive, egotistical, and uncaring. If anything, it has driven home the point of trying to be more mindful, but all the while realizing that I'm far from perfect, and it's something that requires constant effort and attention.

At a certain point I met someone who seemed to be there to assist me in deciding whether I should come back in this life or start all over in another. I would call this person my guide, and although I'm not really aware of them having a physical presence, I felt a feminine energy about them. I wanted to know more about them and this place I was in. But, it was clear that this experience was not about them. It was more like going to a guidance counselor. I was young, but emotionally invested in the people of this life. Starting over and not really knowing what that would be like was hard for me to accept. I was shown parts of my future life, like going up to a screen and suddenly being in the moment experiencing it. It was as though I were there at that moment, feeling how I would feel at that time. I was shown parts of my future in this life if I chose to go on. You would think I could predict the future with what I was shown, yet it could be due to the fact that I don't deal with detailed information really well. I tend to look at the global perspective and see the forest but not the trees. But there was a clarity there in that place, which doesn't seem to exist for me here. It was simple to understand so much more than I can here. Although I do get feelings about people and things here once in awhile, it's not like I remember feeling there. As these moments unfolded in my life here, after this NDE, there would be a sense of familiarity about some things. Sometimes it can be about people, even though I had not met them before.

The things I was shown have been more like choices that were made when the options were fairly limited. The feeling at the time of the choice was simply 'This feels right. This feels like the right thing to do.' With that feeling is a sense of peace, and calm. I was told that if I were to continue in this life, that it would be unlikely that I would reach my potential. However, it seemed clear that starting over was a wild card and I was not shown anything about that. I remember meeting other people, and I get the feeling that these were people who had lived here and were there to help me decide what to do. I was shown details of my future that I don't feel really comfortable divulging here. Some things were embarrassing. There was a total and complete clarity there, and it had nothing to do with my sense of self, or ego, but everything to do with what I came into this life to do, to learn, and to experience and grow.

I can see that I am running out of room here, so I will cut it short...When I returned to my body, I really missed that place and I still think about it today. We are here to grow as spiritual beings and to experience certain things. I remember things from before and during my birth. I remember choosing my parents for their personality and kindness. On a certain level I'm pretty sure I chose to have asthma to keep me from making the mistakes of another life. I may have chosen my NDE to keep me aware of why I'm here.

NDERF.org

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me,

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me,

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me,

Look away beyond the blue.

 

I've got a home in glory land that outshines the sun,

I've got a home in glory land that outshines the sun,

I've got a home in glory land that outshines the sun,

Look away beyond the blue.

 

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me,

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me,

Do Lord, O do Lord, O do remember me,

Look away beyond the blue.

 

Johnny Cash sings “Do Lord”

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plA2vi7mWc0

The dead may not know initially they are dead

"The idea that the dead often don’t initially realize they are dead is universal. While many near-death, out of-body, and postmortem narratives describe the newly dead person floating off almost immediately into other dimensions like the Reverend Bertrand did, others linger longer on the old familiar earth, or what at least feels like the old familiar earth. In these kinds of narrative, the individual wanders about the earthly world, going through doorways, walking down roads, only gradually finding him or herself in a world that, though it still looks familiar, is clearly no longer the exact physical world they were in while alive.

"When, exactly, does the world the individual is moving it shift frequencies? It’s an all but impossible question to answer from our perspective, but the concept of the imaginal allows us to conceive of a consciousness that seamlessly transforms from the earthly to the transearthly, filling in the perceptual picture in essentially the same manner thar our minds fill in the picture in ordinary life. Everyone knows the experience of seeing an object that one thinks is one thing only to then discover that it is something else. Driving along the highway, we see a small brown animal, struck but not killed by a passing car. The closer we come, the most details of the struggling animal we see—and the clearer it becomes that it is indeed just that . . . until we are so close that the object resolves into what it really is, and has been all along: a brown paper bag, moving from the wind created by passing cars.

"Experiences like that remind us that our minds are constantly creating our reality, constantly taking creative/interpretive liberties with the raw material coming in via the optic nerve and the rest of our senses. So, to see this process of collaborative creation continuing all but seamlessly as our consciousness shifts vibrational levels is really not so far-fetched at all. Oblivious to the fact that they are no longer in their physical bodies, the newly dead proceed through the outskirts of the afterlife landscape as if they were still alive—only gradually coming to realize that they are no longer fully part of the physical dimension."

Ptolemy Tompkins, The Modern Book of the Dead (Atria Books, 2012), 216-17.

 

Multiple after-death bodies are transitional

“However many or few spiritual bodies we may actually possess is not so essential a question as it may first seem, if we remember that the extraphysical dimensions can appear differently depending on who is looking at them. A spiritual tradition that describes the human being, for example, as having eight bodies (as a number of North American tribes do) is looking at human extraphysical experience form its particular earthly perspective, with that perspective’s particular assumptions and traditions. But whether four in number, or five, or eight, these extrapysical bodies always convey the idea of a central being who manifests through a number of more exterior bodies, each of which is appropriate to a particular level of the multistoried physical-material universe.

“What all these perspectives have common is the insight that, no matter how few or many of these bodies there may be, once each has served its purpose it is no longer a tool but an obstruction, and the core identity seeks to escape from it with the kind of immediate intuition of its uselessness that the Reverend Bertrand so vividly displayed that day in the Swiss Alps. Each body is first a tool and the, if not discarded, a hindrance and an anchor, holding back from where we are supposed to go and preventing us from becoming what we are not supposed to be.

 

“To leave one body behind is, again universally and regardless of the fine points, to undergo a death that is, at the same time, a birth. When, on the earthly plane, we see an animal emerge from a shed skin, or a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis, what we are seeing is the earthly version of a process that continues to occur in the dimensions beyond this one, an idea that Henry Corbin explained by saying that the world beyond our own symbolize with this world. What this means—and it’s an idea that while at first seemingly alien actually makes a deep intuitive sense—is that the stuff that goes on in the dimensions above this one bears similarity to this one, even when that stuff appears at first glance to be completely unrelated to it. Different as the worlds are, they are levels of one single cosmos, so that what first appears strange will, if we linger with it, eventually cease seeming so.”

 

Ptolemy Tompkins, The Modern Book of the Dead (Atria Books, 2012), 212-13.