How many times does a person really need to die? I thought once would be enough. But I had to go and do it twice more to get it right.
Let’s take a moment to consider this. Nearly 800 near-death-experiences occur in the United States a day. That’s nearly 300,000 a year in just the United States. Nearly everyone I meet knows of someone who has had one of these experiences. Awareness to this phenomenon is becoming more and more common, and I was surprised to find out it is not a new thing. These experiences have been recorded in the folklore of many cultures since the beginning of our written history. It’s interesting too, that death does not exhibit any prejudices as people have reported these near-death-experiences from all walks of life and from varying backgrounds and circumstances.
In comparison, what makes my near-death-experiences interesting is I remember them. I remember where I went, what I did, and have information as to what benefits these experiences bring to our lives. Each of my deaths was different than the last, and each served a specific purpose on my journey.
Death Number 1:
My first death was the typical lack of oxygen, enter a tunnel, and get pushed back into my body type. I had been struggling for hours with hypoxia that took away my ability to think consciously before my heart ceased. I died in the van on the way to the hospital. Before doctors were able to revive me, I left my body. Once out of my body, I ventured to a place that felt like a crowded bus station, but as I relaxed into the light of the space and my form became more solid, the space reminded me of my many visits to Disneyland. I was excited and up for a grand adventure as I found my way onto one of the rides. After all, I had spent most of my life hoping to die. I yearned to leave my life of unending and pervasive suffering.
The roller-coaster car moved along a rail. Eventually, the car fell away and left me moving very fast. I was flying like Superman inside the tunnel. As the speed of my journey slowed, I entered into a section of the tunnel lined with people. They grabbed at me, slowing me down. Fear crept in, leaving me to believe that I wouldn’t make it to my destination. I mentally screamed and was finally ejected from the tunnel onto a platform.
There I met Alma. I recognized her because of an amazing feeling of seeing a family member, even though I had never met her. She radiated a clear and more complete sense of love than I had felt in my entire life. We had a lengthy telepathic conversation before she, much to my dismay, pushed me back into my body.
During the weeks that followed, it was obvious what I learned from my first death—equality of life.
No one is more or less than anyone else, not ever.
I gained the understanding that in life I am in complete control of every experience, that all the victimization in my life is created by me, and that anything I feel as suffering is within the control of my free will.
Still, even with that grand adventure under my belt, I lost faith in life. The joy and love that had embraced me on the other side seemed to abandon me. The density of existing here drove me again to death.
I waited nearly four months before I died again.
Death Number 2:
My second death was more spontaneous and more normal than the first. I had agreed to a physically invasive test, a test that was supposed to determine what caused my first death, when the doctors killed me.
Picture this, it’s my 38th birthday and I am laying in the hospital while the anesthesiologist puts a mask on my face. Count back from 99, 98, 97…out. Now in the past, and for most people who go under, the next experience is grogginess, disorientation, and then an understanding that the event is over.
The doctors inserted a wire into my heart. Before they started the test, they sent a tiny current to make sure the wire was properly placed.
What happened next was completely unexpected . . . I died.
Here’s how I remember it outside of the medical facts. My heart stopped and my breath suddenly occurred without weight. Reflecting back on this later I could understand that the physical layer of breath stopped and the energetic layer continued.
When the body goes into trauma, often the energy of a being steps outside of the body to protect it from the impact of the gut, heart, and brain’s electrical control. If the energetic being does not move out of the body, it can sometimes experience trauma that may sometimes lead to physical death. Having stepped out, I felt great relief that my life was over. I popped up out of my body, feeling myself as a very large grin, and I left.
My leaving was similar to blinking, but even more like I was a flash of light capable of moving so fast I existed between molecules. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again I was in a bright, stark-white nothingness. When I blinked again, before me was a beast. The beast caught my attention and I remained present, aware of the space I was in. Had I been in my body, I might have experienced regret as a mass of fur and horns swooped in before me. Yet, existing outside of my body gave me an expanded awareness, and I felt like I existed as a chuckle instead of a person. I stared at the beast who appeared to be my captor and evaluator.
This huge, hairy creature circled me, smelling me, multi-sensing me. Then, having only arrived in spirit to this space, I changed from vapor into form—a hot pink, humanoid giraffe.
I felt dazed, like when you first wake in a strange place with no expectations, no more spectacular than if I had fallen asleep on the bus and woken two hours later. I didn’t ask any questions, nor did I have the ability to comprehend from a human perspective. When the beast moved from hovering in front of my face, I noticed that the stark white space had been transformed into a garden.
I stood frozen, not from fear, but from lack of desire or thought to do anything other than exist.
Several other humanoid animals excitedly ran over to me.
“Oh, so nice to meet you,” said a guardian in the form of a golden pig. He made it clear that my visiting the garden was something of great joy for them.
“I can assure you that your visit to our garden is temporary. We’ll keep you company until you are able to go back.” The singing and dancing crew of creatures took me by the arms and happily propelled me forward down through the garden. They joyfully led me along a circular path, talking and sharing even though I had no response to give. Every so often along the path, they would stop and turn me toward the vegetation. The vegetation would hold me entranced until one or the other of the animals pulled me back and began to dance around the circular path again.
After five or six rounds along this circular path, in which the scenery changed for each round, a path leading from the circle opened. The animals gave me their farewells, their many blessings, and expressed their joyful excitement of knowing something about my life that I did not know.
Even though I wanted to stay and revel in this joy, I felt the tug to return to my body. People in the physical were trying to revive me. As soon as I paired back up with my body, I went from great joy to immediate pain. It made no sense. I hadn’t been in pain before the test so why had it all changed so drastically?
I opened my eyes to find all the bright, magical colors of the other space to be replaced with the average blue-grey world that I find as Earth. You don’t truly know the expression of full color until you have been to the other side.
While on the other side, I had no way of knowing they were performing CPR and other emergency services, as well as surgery to save my life. When I re-entered my body, the spiritual and the physical parts of me each had their own story to tell. They were screaming about the adventures they had been on, those that left shared a different tale than those that had stayed behind.
By this time, my death seemed distant and unnatural. I didn’t leave this planet, I only left this dimension. I have been put under multiple times and I didn’t have this experience either before or since.
I learned from my second death the language of geometrics, how to manipulate energetic form, how to use and operate a holan chamber, and how to use energy in this space to shape reality as I choose. The focus of my use and continual expression of this knowledge is for wellness and our ability to put an end to suffering.
In the wake of this strange experience, I felt bolstered. Yet the feeling, just like after my first death, didn’t last and eventually I was back to praying to be dead.
Death Number 3:
My third death is the most story typical of the three. The Angel of Death appeared in response to my plea. I was fearless and grateful for his arrival. He leaned in, growing more solid in form as his face closed in on mine. He was wearing a dark hooded cloak. His flesh appeared burned and falling from his bones. If I were in a movie, this would be the moment I would expect to feel his hot, dangerous, and phosphorous breath tracing down my cheek and neck; but here in my real-life adventure, there was no breath. I saw whips of air that reminded me of an energetic storm. The currents pulled his flesh away as he continually regenerated his rippling form.
Death reached his long, dark, gnarled fingers through my flesh and bone to grip my heart. An arrhythmia began. Pain in my chest increased as Death’s grip grew stronger on my heart. I remained fearless and confident that I wanted this. That was when I heard a group voice far off in the distance.
Death’s concentration lapsed as did mine, and even though he did not release his grip the pain in my chest subsided.
I was confused. Wait for what? Who has the power to stop Death in his tracks?
The voices, now closer, emphasized, “But wait. Let us show you what will happen if you stay.”
The beings did not show themselves in form as Death had; they remained just out of conscious view. What they did show me was what would happen to my friends and family if I stayed. They showed me how the world could change if I were bold enough to share the information I learned from my first two deaths. The changes I saw were so immense that I could not imagine how they could be possible. Although these visions were impressive, these beings did not directly influence my decision to choose life or death. They left the choice entirely up to me.
Up to this point, I had lived my life praying that the suffering in our world would end. Since it hadn’t, I wanted out. I told the beings that the only way I would agree to choose life was if they could guarantee that my visions would come true.
The guarantee was made.
As long as I did the work, the future I saw would become reality.
I agreed to live.
To make sure I wouldn’t forget that I actually wanted to be here, they made me beg for my life. As an incentive, they showed me the many blessings that were to come and then told me I couldn’t stay unless they believed I meant it. With the Angel of Death poised over my body, the strength of his grip pressing the life out of my heart, I begged for more than six hours until they were satisfied that I would not again forget that I have chosen to stay and do this work.
After my third death, I went on to recognize death in many other forms. Over time, I have witnessed hundreds of physical, mental, and emotional deaths. These other deaths—of marriage, career, financial stability—were all lesser versions of my near-death-experience. Understanding this opened my eyes to the concept of “A Death of Sorts.” Along any spiritual path when true change happens, you are always going to experience some sort of death. These deaths align us with our soul level truths. Trusting these deaths are created by us, for us, and because of us changes everything. These experiences have a significant impact on our lives.
Every death, whether minor or major, is unique and necessary. Still, they all have one thing in common:
Death is not the end. It is always a beginning.
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Death: Awakening to Life.
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