Friday, June 11, 2010


I’m not one to entertain thoughts of fantasy or fiction as though it could be real. My mindset is thoroughly scientific - thoroughly, but not entirely. The “facts” are not always easily grasped, especially when evidence is circumstantial or coincidental. Sometimes the observed outcome, real as it is, has a source that can only be described as surreal. Creativity, inspiration, beauty... these things have an origin that cannot be nailed down. Doors open and they close, demise is sometimes a fore drawn conclusion, fate does not always manifest in what happened, but rather that the inconceivable did happen. Granting that astronomically long odds do not eliminate anything from occurring, when something so unlikely does occur it leaves one wondering…

Some time ago, I bought a book about near-death experiences. I bought it because I experienced one and I wanted to find some empirical or experiential information by which I could contextualize or perhaps reify my version of it. Although the writing was horrible, that was not the main problem I had with the book. And it might not have been the book that was the problem so much as the question I was trying to answer. I did not realize at the time that my question was not answerable. There is no way to know what I experienced, what it meant and whether or not it was “real.” I still only have my convictions – there is no evidence. The book was much more certain than I, however. It had answers and I could not help but continually ask, “How do you know?” It spelled out in rather certain terms what those who experience death – and then did not die – all saw (for lack of a better word). There seemed to be some hard and fast rules and my story did not fit the mold. Yet I know I was there.

Not all books have value. Though the entire incident could have lasted anywhere from a split second to several weeks, the actual time spent flirting with the hereafter could not have been very long. However, a virtual eternity passed – and not without notice. The accident I speak of is one that I have written about many times before. Now nearly ten years ago, the specifics are all but gone, but the profound nature remains. The question or questions I have were answered but the answers are forgotten. Maybe by design. I believe there is more to all this... this everything... but I am no closer to proof than I was prior to coming to this conviction. I believe I was not alone – a guiding force, an angel, was my constant companion. But I can barely translate the experience into words, let alone prove it. And I cannot say what others might or might not experience in a similar brush with death.

But I can say this – I know what I knew. I know what I forgot. I know what I know. And that is enough.

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