Internet
posting to Near Death Newsgroup....10-23-96
Attached may be found elements
of a Near Death Experience that occurred on October 2, 1987.It was, on the surface, a horrendous experience.Yet, not unlike other things in Life,
I wouldn't want it NOT to have happened.It taught and continues to teach.
This "accident"
occurred west of Delta, Utah, in the Sevier
Desert.Considered some of the most inhospitable land in North America,
the two lane blacktop cutting thru the middle of this empty 125
mile stretch hasn't much traffic.Appropriately named, America’s
Loneliest Highway, it’s something of a road less traveled ever
since the interstate come to town up north toward Salt Lake.
I'd gotten my Jeep Cherokee
stuck in somethin' like quicksand while out in the middle of this
no man's land.I walked the quarter mile or so back to
the tarmac with a guy I picked up in Colorado the day before as
he was lookin' for a lift.We figured to hitch another ride.After standin' around for a few hours and watchin' the occasional
car pass us by, we saw a 1967 Pontiac Le Mans coming from out of
the west, that just, kinda, emerged from the heat mirage wafting
from the baked pavement.It really did have all the markings of something coming straight
out of the Twilight Zone.
The driver pulls to a stop;
I check out his car (which is immaculate...no rust, no dust, lookin'
like it just came off the assembly line in Detroit) and hop in next
to him.The hitcher I'd picked up in Colorado
jumps in the back and off we go.The guy at the steering wheel is heading back home to Grand
Junction Colorado and I am going for a tow truck.The dude in the back seat is along for the ride and would
have gone whichever way the wind blew.We've got us a clear road, broad daylight, new tires, a car
without a scratch and is owned by a gear freak who calls it his
"baby."
The odometer reads 182,700
miles and it ought to have been a piece of cake.Yet, taking into consideration I was on a Vision Quest and
heading toward the Hopi Reservation in Arizona, the fella I'd picked
up earlier had just left a Rainbow Gathering in North Carolina and
was enroute to a Grateful Dead concert in San Francisco, the driver
had recently done time in a federal penitentiary for conspiring
to counterfeit 10's and 20's, and it becomes fairly apparent the
writin' was on this wall.Obviously, I missed the fine print which warned,"Fasten your seat belts gentleman,
it's gonna be a weird old ride."
About ten miles or so
later, the back rear tire blows and goes thermonuclear as we careen
off the road at 82 mph.Subjectively, it went into the standardized
NDE slow motion routine that has been discussed by other experiencers
before...only might be it felt a wee bit slower than slow motion...more
like a "freeze frame...click...freeze frame...click...freeze
frame...click...."And
then sped up as we went airborne.It was like that, at least until the end to end, bumper to
bumper, flipping started.By then, there was little left to do but hang on as the whole
world cartwheeled across the hard pan, and the 20 year old car door
took me along for the ride as it exploded off it’s hinges.
There's obviously a lot
of the story before and after which is not being told here and is
still getting written.But,
here's the blood and guts...the Heart is in the INTENT of the tellin'...
and loving the love inside... that loves the Love...that LOVES LOVE…just
LOVE LOVE.
M
DESERT
As I left my body I never
lost what felt to be consciousness.True, I felt as if I’d banged my head.I even got a bit of that seeing stars sensation one does
when falling as a child and bouncing off the ground.But this was different.There was no pain, not even the major jarring effect one
gets when slammin’ your skull on a cupboard, just an immediate
departure thru what appeared to be a galaxy of stars.Further, there was a specific counter clockwise motion to
the movement, and rather than a spin, a spiraling effect.
I believe this is called
being knocked out, yet I wasn’t unconscious.I was cognizant of traveling apart from my body even though
I’d been “thrown” from it.There was only a journeying thru these stars that were really
quite beautiful.This
did not feel alarming or unnatural, although different, by way of
being so memorable.After
reaching a certain point in this spiraling motion, there was a reversal
and it was like being drawn, sucked back, in a clockwise fashion.I had no awareness of time, only motion.
Suddenly, I found myself
in my body, sitting on the ground and looking at a landscape that
seemed alien to me.Everything
was perfectly clear, very in focus as a matter of fact, and I vividly
recall having this perception of a massive amount of the purest
unobstructed energy coursing thru me.So much so, my first recollected thought was, “Hey,
I feel good...really good.I haven’t felt this good since I
was a kid."
Relishing the eloquence of this flowing energy,
I looked up, and, to my amazement, noticed what appeared to be a
car sitting on a pedestal.It reminded me of something you’d see at an art gallery,
only weirder, because it was upside down as well.Confused by the surrealism, I immediately began wondering,
“What the hell’s goin’ on around here?”It was as if I’d awakened in a disjointed dream, and
I recall great perplexity insofar as how in the world is any of
this possible.
I shook my head in an attempt
to gain clarity.I
distinctly remember thinking I was “going two dreams down."My
surroundings remained, and, what was worse, I began losing the fluidity
of this newly acquired energetic feel good.With an agonized shriek, I realized this was no dream; this
was the real deal and the car in front of me had achieved a pedestal
effect by having come to rest on its' roof atop a six foot embankment.
I could see my foot had
been ripped off and was hanging by threads next to my right kneecap.Bloody bone was protruding out of the
place my foot ought to have been and the end of my tibia was sticking
into the floor of the desert.I was afraid.I
was immersed in a nightmare happening in front of my eyes which
refused to go away.I thought, "Oh my God, my foot’s
gone and it’s over...I am an invalid now and things will never
be the same...They’ll never be the same...I’ll never
be able to shoot a 30 foot jump shot again and my foot's gone; my
foot’s GONE."
Then the pain hit.A white hot wave of agony with no baseline
from my experience to contain it, a ruthless fiend, without pity,
compassion or comparison.Terror followed and accelerated to the point of near hysteria.Frantically, I tried dragging myself away
in hope of evading this excruciating specter…it didn’t
work.The insanity
of it continued to escalate like a freight train gone wild, all
out of control, and fueled with a primal fear that goaded my attempt
to escape in the first place.
I became aware other things
weren't right.Something
was wrong with my spine; my chest seemed crushed and there was no
air, no energy to hold the pain at bay or fear away.It was just too much.I could only haul myself a few feet and go no further.I was done.I
was "all in."With
little success, I tried to clear my mine and get my emotions under
control.This was bad, real bad, and it was hittin’
me in such torturous tides I could only lock my shoulders beneath
me and brace myself against the gravity drawing me down to the ground.Later, I learned I’d suffered 9
broken ribs, 4 cracked ones, and compression fractures in my spine.Yet, in that Here and Now, all I could
do was a juggling act between drawing air and dueling with the devastation
that had become me.
Somehow or other it occurred
to me pain really wasn’t all bad.And, if I could still feel the shafts of it running up my
leg, then my spinal cord wasn’t severed.I figured, since my spinal cord wasn’t severed, that
was, at least, one good thing.Thus, pain that was bad had reversed itself into pain that
was good, and, once realizing how good it was, I wanted it to go
away again…I guess some people are never satisfied.Then, as if in a leap of macabre mirth, the thought occurred
to me, “Whelp, this does not bode well," and, suddenly,
I entered the groove of objectively sizing the situation up and
began determining what had to be done to keep the machine runnin.’I became deliberate, determined to “tighten up, get
tough” and see what had to be done.
The driver was impossibly
wedged in the car, his head crushed in an 8 inch space created by
the roof collapsing upon the dashboard.With certainty, I figured he was dead.There was no aghast astonishment registering based on this
observation; it was just the way it was, so get over it and get
on with it. The other passenger came fumbling, then
stumbling, out of the car.He tacked a dozen yards or so before dropping to the ground,
impressively managing to get within six feet of the road.
Blinking back blood from
numerous scalp wounds, I continued to scan the perimeter.The lightening bolts of pain kept hitting and the heat kept
coming on... wave after wave after wave.With each expansion and then contraction of my rib cage,
the broken body parts would work in unison to create the effect
of a vise grip, refusing to let go.I’d gasp a hit of air, hold it, and, after utilizing
all that could be garnered, grab for some more.
Then, with what felt like
it was approaching from a great distance, I sensed an easing.My distress was becoming more manageable,
less devastating, and a comfortable lapse in the extremes began
to take place.The
flashes of blinding terror and jolts of agony were being replaced
with a sense of "it’s getting easier, it isn’t
as bad as it was."I was reminded of something, but like
in a fog, the recollection of just what it was refused to register.One of those it's right on the tip of
the tongue kinda things, yet another hint or two might help to clear
things up a bit.
Suddenly I knew.It felt like the morphine given me when
I’d experienced a nearly bursting appendix during my junior
year in college.True,
that pain wasn't nearly as consuming as what was occurring at the
particular moment, yet an attention grabber just the same.I recall how amazed I’d been any substance, morphine
in this case, could just take it away.
So, while semi-lying there
in the desert, with my elbows welded in a manner making it easier
for any air I could get to tumble into my lungs, it occurred to
me somewhere or other I’d heard endorphins, produced by the
brain, were chemically similar to morphine.Endorphins are what the body utilizes from it’s own
neurological pharmacopoeia to deaden pain and the process, in layman's
terms, is shock.That
was it.I was going
into shock, the ache was leaving, and I was being lulled into lettin’
it all go.Ah yes,
better living thru chemistry.
My head was getting heavier.I could feel it gathering weight and couldn’t
quite hold it up any longer.I didn’t really feel like working so hard at keeping
my elbows locked or subjectively demanding more air.As certainly as the pain was subsiding, so did I become aware
if I allowed myself to be seduced with the tranquilizing effect
of shock, I wouldn’t have the strength to fight any longer.I knew once I was down on my back, I’d
never have enough energy left to raise my diaphragm and get the
air I needed to survive.Thus,
the world had turned again, and no pain was no good.Instead, I’d have ride thru the soothe, keep my elbows
anchored, and chin up.Once
again, I guess some people are never satisfied.
I had help.It seems of all the places I could have
dragged myself, I just happened to have stopped at a place where
a sharp edged rock about the size of a baseball was located.Furthermore this damn thing was cutting into my back at a point
where it actually made the pain worse than what it was to begin
with.Every time I’d
try to give up, Mr. Rock would start slicing into my back and reminding
me, “Yes Mike, it can get worse...it can get a whole lot worse."This, of course, was to be followed with
such cosmic frivolity as, "Hey pal, talk about a rock and hard
spot."I didn't
laugh.
Creatively crafting every
four-letter word that came to mind, I explained to the pain it was
A-OK to prance back upon the stage.Graciously accepting my invitation, the endorphin rush ran
it’s course; the torture returned to it’s screeching
rendition of Hell on Earth and the guy who had managed to get himself
next to the roadside, spoke.
“How bad are you
hurt?" he said.
One of the hardest things
I’ve ever had to say was when I responded with a stutter,
'"My... my foot's off.I lost my foot”.It felt to finalize it…to make it
so.There was no more
slack and by saying those words it added more Reality to an already
Unreal situation…the angst was crucifying.
“How...how about
you?" I said.
“Both my legs are
broken”, he responded.
Which, in the moment, sounded
far worse than what I had to deal with because I, at least, still
had one good leg.I
am a little ashamed to admit it, but I saw this as a huge plus and
was relieved it was him instead of me.Frankly, it seemed I already had my hands full and my good
leg being broken, along with my foot having been ripped off, might
have been just a little bit more then I could handle for one afternoon’s
drive in the country.That
was about the time this undertaking turned form bad to worse and
from worse to weird.
The upturned car was directly
in my line of sight.I
could see the body of the lifeless driver hanging from where his
head had been pinned on its perch.Abruptly, his torso snapped to attention
like a broken twig.I
was thunderstruck.After
all, one moment the guy's got his skull wedged in an area you couldn’t
fit a golf ball, then, WHAM, his arms and legs shoot straight out
like some puppet on a marionette's string.
"Help me, help me,"
he moaned.
It was like someone talking
thru water, muffled the way it would sound if he were stuffed inside
a paper bag.Then the
flopping started.Trying
to pull his head from an inconceivably small area, the poor Soul
was using his hands, and pushing against the crumpled dashboard
in hopes of freeing himself.The collapsed roof held him tight and
no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t.He was stuck, and from what I could tell, was gonna stay that
way. I was convinced
anything as large as a human cranium, crammed in a space so small,
stood little chance of liberation.Not unlike pulling a ship out of a bottle...it just ain’t
gonna happen.His struggling slowed, his moans became
feeble, and it got quiet again.
“We’ve got
to get him out," said the guy by the road.
"I shoulda said that",
I thought."How
could I be so selfish?"I was immediately wracked with shame.“Can you do it?" I said.
“No," he responded,
“my legs are broken."
Well, that was just about
the all time slam dunk as far as guilt goes.If I had illusions of what a great guy I might have been
before, they were all gone now.Here I was just lying around and being so damn preoccupied
it never even occurred to me to try getting the driver out of the
car in the first place.And now, I ‘d completely forgotten the fact the guy by
the side of the road had two bad legs, not one.No doubt about it, I was an all time schmuck and really a rather
pathetic piece of protoplasm.
There was a problem though.I knew I was all in and had never been
here before; I’d never gotten to the point where my body was
so shot.There had
always been, even when trying to run a race as fast as I could,
some reserve...a little extra something, somewhere.This time there was nothing left.
I really detested him for
putting me in this position and, further still, found I detested
myself more for being angry in the first place.In some philosophical hall of debate I am certain there is
a message about what this may mean, but at the time my hands were
fairly full, and I could decide on only one course of action.I had to try, even though I figured I’d die on the
way.I knew I’d rather be dead than live with the knowledge
I wouldn’t help another in such piteous condition. I was screwed.
The guy was really starting to piss me off.
Every time I ran the logic
thru my mind it kept coming up the same.I sucked what wind I could into my lungs and promptly lost
half of it.By expanding my chest, the broken ribs
separated and the pain’s backlash forced an exhale as I attempted
hefting myself up and over my dismembered foot.After the third attempt, I managed to throw my left arm over
my body, twisting my frame enough to grab the desert soil to my
right.It worked; I had what felt like the beginning
of a hold insofar as rolling onto my belly and inching myself back
to the car.Yet, no
matter how hard I tried, I didn’t have the strength.I couldn’t even turn myself onto my stomach, much less
accomplish anything else.Once again, Life reminded what it was like to be all used
up.
I felt relieved in a peculiar
way.Now, no matter
what, at least I’d made my best effort.If nothing else, perhaps some redemptive force would take
such self-reflective flagellation into consideration when my time
came.Which, incidentally, seemed right around the corner.
Before I could slap myself
on the back, the strange got stranger.With a “pop,” (and, I do mean “a pop”)
the driver’s head simply exploded from its trap and the guy
came sweeping out of the car, fully erect, and moving like a cat
on a hot tin roof...with tar on it.The most bizarre part was yet to come, because right before
my very eyes his head began to grow to three times it’s normal
size.What’s
more, he had a hole in his forehead pumping a geyser of blood straight
up, over the top, and all the way down his entire body.
Since then, I’ve
learned this is not uncommon with severe head injuries.After all, the rear view mirror had broken off and the anchor
post was sticking into his skull.This probably accounts for the popping noise as he dislodged,
and the reason he was so securely stuck in the first place.I wasn’t aware at that time the human cranium is comprised
of movable plates which can expand to such disproportionate degree
as to make the term “pumpkin head” more than fancy...It
can make it fact.
He was covered with blood
from top to toe.It
just burst out of the opening carved into his forehead, and, I’m
slightly embarrassed to admit I’ve referenced him as Mr. Tomato
Head since.Yet, it was like that.It was like this pumpkin sized, bloody tomato had emerged
from the vehicle, with features unrecognizable as a being human.Initially, he staggered as if drunk, but
soon righted himself by clutching the back bumper of the overturned
vehicle.
His head kept growing.Unfathomable amounts of blood continued
to gush every which way, and last, but by all means not the least,
he was blind.Each
time he would raise his hand to wipe the blood out of his eyes,
the wound would just feed more of it back at him until he eventually
just gave up trying to clear his sight altogether.As an extra added attraction, he began shouting, ”Where
am I?I am blind.Where
am I?"
There really wasn’t
a damn thing I could do about it except struggle to hold onto my
rationality and go along for the ride.More problems began presenting themselves with each passing
moment.This was a 1967 Pontiac Le Mans; it had a pre-embargo gas tank,
capable of holding 23 gallons of fuel, and the driver had just topped
it off before entering the longest stretch of America’s Loneliest
Highway.The gas cap
remained on during the wreck, and, with the car residing on it’s
roof, fuel was being sprayed around the lid’s edges like one
of those water sprinklers you’ll find in the backyard on a
hot summer’s day.What was worse, there was no movement
of air in the desert, only stillness.The fuel and fumes kept pouring out, permeating everything.It just hung there…and the engine
block was very, very hot.
Of course, the guy by the
side of the road was the first to say something.And, shame having no boundaries, I immediately felt chagrined
I’d missed this one too.
“Get away from the
car, it’s gonna blow," he said.
Once, then twice he shouted,
and the driver, who had never stopped screaming, finally registered
others were in this predicament as well.“What," he started, “Who said that?Where are you?”
I added my two bits by
tossing in, “There’s gas everywhere; ya gotta get away
from the car."
He let go of the bumper
and started stumbling toward me.Self absorbed as it sounds, all I could think of, as this
red bathed apparition began moving in my direction was, “Oh
my God, he’s blind and gonna follow the sound of my voice,
trip over my foot, fall on my chest, and crush me to death."
I got real quiet after
that and couldn't help but notice the guy by the side of the road
did too.And, although Mr. Tomato Head kept begging
to know who was there and where we were, we remained as silent as
little church mice waiting for him to stagger back to the car and
button himself to the bumper.
After a while, it seemed
fairly obvious if the car hadn't blown by then, it wasn't going
to.Nonetheless, I’d watch him as he’d
get ready to launch himself into the desert and when the moment
arrived, I’d quickly say“Get away from the car, it’s gonna blow."
He’d respond by immediately reattaching himself to the car
frame, which seemed like a better idea then anyone wandering off
before help arrived.He wasn’t listening to what I was
saying, only the sound of something being said.
Initially, he’d kinda
spin around screaming “Who said that?...Where are you?...I
am blind...I can’t see."
I’d respond with
silence until he’d turn to embark in another direction, and
then I'd simply repeat the earlier warnings.I really wasn’t feeling creative enough to come up
with any new lines, and, “Get away from the car, it's gonna
blow,” seemed to work at keepin’ him put.
And so, in the middle of
the desert, in the center of nowhere, Mr. Tomato Head and his Footloose
Companion were just playing a morbid little game of cat and mouse...
and then it got worse.
“There’s a
car coming...A CAR IS COMING!" said the guy by the side of
the road.
With a monumental effort,
I turned slightly and looked down the two-lane blacktop strip…and
saw nothing.It was
late afternoon, a clear autumn day, and It surely seemed to me if
there was something out there I’d be able to spot it.Especially is this true because at that particular juncture
"A car is coming" took on the same import as if he were
to have said "Here Come Baby Jesus."
Before I could respond
he continued, “I saw a flash of sunlight off a car’s
windshield, they’ll be here in a few minutes”.
And sure enough, it was
there.Periodic glints, glare coming from an
approaching vehicle, although still miles away, getting nearer.All we had to do now was just hold on.Just stay with it a little longer because help would soon
be arriving and everything was gonna be OK.We were gonna get out of this god forsaken
desert, be taken to a hospital, get pumped up with some major drugs,
the pain would be gone, and if I could only just kept breathing
one breath at a time a little while longer, just maybe I’d
live.I was so thankful I let loose a sigh.As it turned out, this was almost my undoing.
I’d managed to keep
myself going by performing a number of physical gymnastics.Clamping my elbows to the ground and securing them in place
were required to keep my diaphragm angled at the most advantageous
slant to drop air into my chest.It seems I wavered between 25-35 degrees, depending upon
what was happening in the arena of my extremities.My foot was hangin' by a thread, and the bone, that until
recently had kept it glued to my leg, was stickin' in the desert
soil.Other than the
fact I'd just become a bona fide lightening rod, the unrelenting
intensity of the pain just knocked the wind out of me.
I clamped down on all the
muscles in my hips, thigh, and footless leg in hopes of stemming
the flow of blood.Whether
or not this is anatomically feasible, I do know by remaining rigid
the pain from my foot didn’t seem to get as long a running
head start and so I was less likely to flop around when a really
powerful blast blew thru.Flopping around seemed like a bad idea. Especially since
my spinal cord hadn't yet been severed and I wanted to keep it that
way.I made every effort to keep the muscles,
acting like carrier waves, as hard as possible to buffer the bolts
before they worked their way up my spine.
It was necessary to keep
my head in a fixed position with my chin resting forward over my
chest.This allowed me to keep the weight of
my skull positioned away from the pull of gravity conspiring to
yank me down and onto that damn rock.I needed to regulate my breath in such a manner I didn’t
expand my lungs so greatly the broken ribs would kick in and cause
me to black out.I’d only take in a minute amount
of air and hold it, grabbing every bit of energy it had to offer.If everything worked out all right, there
would be enough left over to get my next measure.
It was like that from the
beginning.It simply
got to the point of one breath to the next and not much room for
error.Get it right the first time, every time,
or else.The mind is
an amazing instrument.I'd
compute the level of fuel intake, consumption requirements to get
to the next rest area and then go for all the gusto I could gulp.
Tomato Head was clinging
to the bumper and had given up on doing much of anything else. He’d
continued to lose blood, and was obviously wearing down.Knowing how he felt, we’d stopped our cat and mouse game
because it took just too much energy to play anymore.
With the sigh escaping
my lips, I almost didn’t have the energy reserves necessary
to draw my next breath. The hope of rescue seemed to keep things
interesting enough to stick around.
The car began as a small
speck growing agonizingly slow, and finally, loomed as a tangible
thing you could really believe in.It was actually there, continuing toward us, and bless the
beasts and children...we were goin' home.Yet, as it got to within 100 feet I heard the most horrifying
words I can remember.“He’s not stopping,"
wailed the guy by the side of the road, “He’s speeding
up and gonna leave us here."
And it was true.The car was accelerating and driving by
with no hesitation whatsoever.My mind was incapable of grasping what was happening...complete
confusion, mind snapping incomprehension.I struggled to come up with an answer and was rewarded with
the initial rationalization, “Oh, they must have hit the accelerator,
instead of the brake, by mistake."
But the only thing breaking
was my heart as I watched, with what felt like the angst of the
ages, the car disappearing and leaving us there to die.
As I tried to make heads
or tails out of what had just happened, I was reminded of a kid’s
story I'd heard and never did liked very much.It went something like, ”If you want to know how really
important you are, put your hand into a bucket filled with water
and pull it out.Look back into the bucket and see what
trace you’ve left and realize we’re all just dust in
the wind.”Like
I said, I never cared for this fable; still have misgivings as a
matter of fact, but that was the final straw.That’s what broke me and gave such sense of abject
futility that, naked to the core, I cried out, “Oh God...
Great Spirit... Help."
When that didn’t
seem to produce any effects, I went in a rather hysterical manner
thru a litany of different philosophical belief system’s saviors,
savants, saints, or anything else I could think to call upon because
I’d had enough and wanted out.I couldn’t take it anymore.
I was greeted with silence.
It gets very quiet when
you're in the middle of the desert and waiting for your own death.Other than listening to the hiss of gas
draining from the fuel tank and the driver’s incoherent pleas,
I just went from one breath to the next.I recall no thoughts registering in my mind.I simply couldn’t believe the unbelievable and my brain
shut down.There was
nothing left to ponder, or anything to ponder it with.Believing in the inherent goodness of people when the chips
were down, I was proven wrong.
My midwestern sensibilities
were most certainly blown and all I had left to hold onto was the
Light of Love I’d Merged in 1972’s Near Death Experience.Or maybe just be a part of...because there
just didn’t seem to be much of anything else remaining.My NDE had nothing to do with believing
or hoping or philosophizing or anything else I’d picked up
along the way.Those
things were as far gone as the next two cars and the semi truck
that passed us by and kept on going.
I knew only The LIGHT and
ITS LOVE mattered Now.And
even in such a miserable condition, I am still amazed the intensity
of my injuries in the desert was not nearly the Peak Experience
the LIGHT of the Afterlife Experience had been.I’ve marveled about that since...how when all else
was stripped away, the two events weren't even close in magnitude.The Light was more powerful than this darkness because it
was still the most impregnating experience I’d ever known.Beyond the Desert Wasteland, IT was what I’d been left
with when all else was gone.IT for IT’s Own Sake, that and that Alone...LOVE...to
just LOVE LOVE.
I heard the car slowing
before the guy by the side of the road began yelling, “They're
stopping, they're stopping."
I could hear car doors
opening, people rushing out, and footsteps.It had been well over an hour since the accident and I no
longer had the strength to turn my head and take a look.I didn’t have to wait long before a face appeared in
front of me and said, “Sam, is that you?”
I didn’t have a clue.I wasn’t Sam.I didn’t want to lie.And I sure as hell didn’t want him
to leave.I thought
about it though.I
thought, “Hey, if ya want Sam, no problem.I’ll be Sam."But I didn’t want to start it off like that and figured
even if it meant he was gonna go, I had to tell him the truth.“No, my name’s Mike ”, I replied.
By then, I fully expected
him to pack up and roll away; instead, he just looked at me with
the kindest eyes and said “Oh, OK, my name’s Pat."
As he crouched down, I
could look over his shoulder and see another fella assisting the
driver.Someone else was asking the guy by the
side of the road where he was hurt. ” My leg’s are broken”,
he replied.
After a quick check over,
the new arrival said, “Your legs aren’t broke. There’s
nothing wrong with you,” and left him to go help out with
Duke Tomato.
“How about you, fella?
How ya doing?” said Pat.
"My foot's off,"
I stammered.“I
lost my foot."
“Well, it’s
not gone," he said, “but you’ve got a pretty nasty
looking compound fracture there."
I couldn’t believe
it.He said my foot wasn’t gone and
it was only a compound fracture.I remember thinking, “Compound fracture? I can do a
compound fracture."Things
were definitely starting to improve.
"It looks like your
having a hard time breathing; you must have gotten some ribs too,"
Pat noted.
And he was right.I was having a hard time breathing and
it was getting worse with each passing moment.“Yeah,” I said, "and my back, my back."Muscles spasms, like full body charlie horses, were hitting
with increasing frequency.And, with each pass, it became harder
to get the next breath.The
cramping squeezed the air out of me before I could get the charge
of energy I needed to draw my next gasp.I was getting weaker.I was wearing down.
“Hang in there Mike,
we’ve got an ambulance on its way.”
There were two carloads
of them.The three
grown men, Pat, Bob, and Stan, were Boy Scout Leaders from someplace
near Provo.They were escorting a group of guys, who,
having just earned their First Aid Badges, had become Eagle Scouts.These kids were the pick of the crop and
were being honored with an overnight camping trip in the mountains
for completing the final requirements.They were to set up camp that night a little later than they’d
planned.
Other cars began stopping.Whether strength in numbers played a part,
or I’d been wrong to judge the entire human race based on
the ones passing us by, the company was appreciated.I really didn’t want to die alone.
And I could tell I was
dying.Each new wave of pain took too much giz
to counteract.I was
running on empty and the reserves were burnin' quick.Pat tried his level best to keep me going.He must have gotten a first aid badge
or two himself in his lifetime, because he did everything right.He kept me warm.He talked with me, attempting to take
my attention away from the hurt, and held my hand.He even, I could tell, willed his strength to flow into mine.And it worked for awhile, but enough was enough... I’d
about had it.
I’ll always remember
the look in his eyes as he tended me in this nowhere land.I could see his concern, feel his tenderness, knew he cared.And, of everything giving me peace and a sense of rest, these
are the things I hold dear the most.Just to have someone give a damn goes
for a long way.To
care what happens and to be a little kind are markings of a True
Man.Pat E. carried these attributes with him
as a natural extension of himself on one level, and a supernatural
extension of the Divine on another.I could have asked for none better.
“Hang on fella.”
he said, "Just a little while longer”.
“I can’t breathe.I can’t get my breath," I muttered
thru clenched teeth.I
was fading. Hope was leaving and my energy was nearly gone.He knew it, I knew it, and apparently
the guy by the side of the road knew it too, because suddenly, on
his belly, he began scurrying toward us.Like some wounded crab, low crawling across the baked desert
soil, the guy really impressed me with his speed.I was reminded of relay races run at track and field events,
for extended in his hand, as he pulled himself within reach, was
something he’d taken from the dashboard of my jeep.
In so doing, I was plunged
into the Heart of a thousand Suns.At the moment of touch, it was Fire.It was Being Inside a Great Burning, both cellular and solar
at the same time.Of
all the physical agony I have ever known, nothing can compare.The completeness was such, that to hold the Stone, was submission
to the Inferno, immersed in a Continuous Lightening Strike...and
more.
“I want to live,
I want to live," I wailed in my mind, “LIFE, LIFE, LIFE."Beseeching, braying, begging the need
fore LIFE.
The Knowing came; a powered
intuition forming a thought; an awareness so strong it cut thru
the internal eternal Combustion engulfing and becoming me.
"YOU MUST HOLD IT
UNTIL THE COUNT OF FOUR," It impressed.
And I knew, unless I was
able to do EXACTLY that, I'd never survive.I damn well better do it or else die trying.
Nothing was left unscathed.No obstacles stemmed the onslaught.I was molded, molten, melted Flame.It Burned, like some thermonuclear conflagration without
limit, had no boundary, and of a power which cauldroned Life Itself.
The foot, the chest, the
back, all previous parameters were forgotten.They became smoke in the Blaze incinerating every fiber of
my Being.There was
nothing I knew or could have known; only the smoting Center of some
Primal Furnace scorching all barren, all gone, until no thing remained.
I could actually hear the
COUNT.
As if from a non-distant
distance, numbers began, "ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR..."
And still I clung to the
crystal shard, unable, unwilling to let it go.So great the power to Live, to fulfill, that not until “FIVE”
had passed and neared the sounding “SIX” did I relinquish
my grasp and fling the flame from me.
There is little of seeming
import after that.More
people came and I watched them grimace when they’d look at
me, but I had become immune.Little mattered anymore except the next breath or the spasms
squeezing like a vise.Pat tried to help, but there was nothing
he could really do.Religions
of the world, philosophies, and metaphysics, were worthless.They only speak of how to live one’s life and not how
to leave it.
As the time to depart drew
near, I was left with what I’d found all those years ago when
I’d had my first NDE in 1972.Having gone into the LIGHT and felt IT'S LOVE, a LOVE even
more consuming than the Crystal Fire that had engulfed me, or the
battered body assailing me, I began to speak it aloud. To say what
it was that after everything I’d seen, and everywhere I’d
been, still remained.What was, even with what I had been through on this day, more
memorable in ITS POWER than all else...LOVE.
So I did.With each haggard breath I’d just say that word.Over and over and over again, "LOVE...
LOVE... LOVE."
I’d finally found
my Death Song and with my last breath was released into the void.
SPACES
With a final exhalation
and eyes closed, it was as if being “loosed,” released
from the laborious exertions necessary to maintain my body.The pain was immediately gone and I felt as though I were
slipping away on a cushion of cloud.
There was stillness, a
calming, a sense of rising and flowing, then floating upward.
I knew I was leaving my
material form behind.I
knew I’d died to the physical world, yet remained aware my
essential self continued to chant the word LOVE.I never forget, nor could ever, the Wondrousness of the Light.I figured this is what would happen to me once again as I continued
rising upward, outward, from my body.
It was dark at first and
I was afraid.The pain
and suffering I’d endured still infused portions of my awareness,
yet these things were diminishing as I continued movement beyond
and away from the corporeal shroud I’d left.Layers of these concerns were being peeled away, until I
was left with but one thing to Wonder, to maintain as my focus of
INTENT...LOVE.From
the Heart of me, I continued repeating the word LOVE to the cosmos
with whatever apparatus I utilized to give desire expression thru
my Beingness...LOVE, LOVE, LOVE and the humility of impulsing this
and only this was all I knew to keep fear away.
It’s a mighty big
universe out there and I still felt afraid.After all, everything I knew or thought I knew had been stripped
away in the desert, and I found myself wondering whether dying was
to be the end of my suffering, or if there was more in store before
entering the LIGHT once again.Enough had occurred to make me carry a sense of paranoia,
even beyond my death.I was a babe in the woods, whatever was gonna happen or had
happened was beyond me, and I continued to move outward-upward thru
what appeared a dim, low lit, mist.
Gradually, things began
to clear, and I had a sense of being on the outskirts of the planet.Like some weightless wisp, I stopped at
a point outside the Earth’s envelope, and was aware of it
behind me, over my shoulder.Yet, I had no shoulder I needed to look over.It was as if I were vision only and wherever I’d turn
my attention is where I’d see.
I was slightly confused.This isn’t how it had gone before.I recalled distinctly moving thru a Void and, once my priorities
were revealed, inexorably drawn to the LIGHT.But, here I was, come to a complete standstill outside the
Earth’s atmosphere and just hanging boundless.What’s a fella ta do?
I turned my vision eyes
to look about me and became aware of a group of White Light Beings
hovering in space.They
were luminescent and appeared less transparent than I felt, with
something of a cocoon like shape, reminding me of Casper, the friendly
ghost, but longer and leaner.They were spread out a bit and were all
observing the planet.I
sensed these White Light Beings watched the melodrama unfold in
the desert and, perhaps, contributed their collective focus on the
crystal I’d been given.
I just knew these things
with my “unearthed awareness,” resulting from the expansion
ensuing upon departure from a body, or moving beyond the Earth’s
aura.I also felt a little shocked as one of
them disengaged Himself from the group observations and began moving
toward me.I’d
not gone as far this time as in my previous NDE; I had come up short
of where I’d Intended to go and this whole deal was new.As He approached, I, with more of a question attached than
a statement, said, “Love?”.
His immediate reply gave
me a sense of peace and of being a bit of a dunce too. “Of
course,” He casually said.
I’d impulsed this
question from an openness that wasn’t only asking him if he
knew IT, but challenging Him, in His Heart of Heart's, if he represented
IT, as well.There was no doubt in the purity of his
reply when he responded, "Yes.".
I impulsed a query along
the lines of, “Well, what are you doin' here?”
His response was, ”
We’re the first to arrive... there’s more on the way.”
And there was no mistaking
it.He, and I did sense he was decidedly male,
was saying something was going to happen.From wherever He and His fellow Light Beings had come from
that was Home to Them, more were coming.I distinctly got the impression great masses of these Beings
were on the way, and not merely a handful.
This was a good thing.It was like the feeling one gets when
a rescue vessel pulls along side a ship in distress.“How do They do that?” I queried.
“It’s a form
of electromagnetism utilizing Intention and Attention to travel
between planets and stars,” He impulsed.
Thoughts would form in
my awareness as we communicated.It was like mental telepathy, yet more.Pictures of information, something like holographic transmissions,
were taking place in such a freed up means of communication that
effortlessness seems an appropriate word to define it.There was nothing to hide, nor anything hidden.
Understanding what I had
been told, I cast my attention toward a grouping of stars feeling
to be off too my left.By
placing my Attention in that particular quadrant, and then simply
releasing it and Intending to go, I felt a ‘drawing toward”
begin.It was delightful. and I began thinking of how this must be
the way magnets attract one another; the additional kick to get
the whole deal in motion was releasing the allowance to move.
I began a “directed
drift” in the area I had placed my Intention-Attention and
Desire and knew I would soon to be traveling at speeds far greater
than any imagined.I wanted to give this thing a practice
run and began applying the lessons I’d been given.I could feel a build up of magnetic energy
occurring within me, which I somehow knew was integral to the experience.Sorta like watching the Starship Enterprise prepare for warp
drive.It drifts a bit, aligns it’s corridor, then engages warp
speed.Yet with this
experience, I sensed it to be stepped up into the arena of Stardrive.
My thoughts were already
moving at the speed of light.I began a torrential out pouring of enthusiastic scientific
inquiry.“Well, if this does this, and it
goes like this, than that must be like that, and then it must be
like this, and if it works like that, then it must go something
like,” I gushed.Images, scientific thoughts on the nature
of magnets, coupled with philosophical meanderings of the energetics
involved in Desire, Attention, and Intention, flooded thru my awareness
in an exhilarating hyper leap of new found understandings and metaphysical
connections.I was
good to go.
"Wait”, the
Light Being pulsed, “you must go back”.
And I knew he was right.There wasn’t anything to argue about.It was the way It Was supposed to be, and although I did
long to stay, I turned my attention back toward Earth, and was immediately
reunited with my physical body.
The first thing I noticed
was the pain.It hit
like a comet.My foot fired shotgun shells like grapes
thru a goose and each explosion registered on every receiving tower
of all thirteen splintered ribs.My body kept tune to a mastodon’s tap dance and, in
short order. I was reminded where I’d been was far more pleasant.I knew I was going to live.I’d recharged enough to make it and, although it would
be hours before arriving at a hospital, I’d endure...and have.
