Copyright © 2021
by Ralph F. Couey
A number of years ago, I had a singular experience, arising out of a heart catheterization procedure. During the cath, my heart stopped and I...went away. The experience is recounted here if you care to take the time. Since then, I have continued to process the experience, and have realized new insights into what happened. It still remains what it was, a life-altering experience, one that has re-shaped me and the way I view life. And death.
I have shared the experience with just a few people, mainly because I am sensitive about other people's opinions of my sanity. I have also read many books and articles written by others who have shared the same kind of experience. While there are striking similarities, each one seems to be intensely personal to the one who made the journey.
Many of those folks recount incredible stories of tremendous detail and vast perspectives, seeing earth and its people from the point of view of floating above the fray, tremendous celestial "cities" lit with divine light. Also, they recount times when they communicated with personages -- or maybe "entities" would be more accurate. They also report glimpses of Hell and darkness. Reading these accounts I realize that I got only the 15 cent tour before I was sent back. But I also realize that in the context of my life and spiritual needs, I received exactly the experience that I needed.
In the time since, I have lost family, friends, and acquaintances. I miss them. But I also recognize the beauty, peace, and joy that is theirs now. I have also tried to honor my current associations with my care and attention, not putting off some kindness because of my schedule. One of the profound insights from that experience is how precious this gift of life is, and that it is finite. Time can only be taken from us, never given back. I've learned to use time wisely and purposefully, especially with my relationships.
That's kind of old news, I know. But lately, some other bits of knowledge have sifted through that I believe are important to share.
You are free to accept, reject, question, or doubt. I've had some science-oriented people tell me that what I experienced was merely the actions of a brain desperately trying to survive. Whatever. I was there.
I knew someone who had lost a relative to a particularly merciless and painful form of cancer. Their last weeks were spent in indescribable agony that even the best drugs would dent but never subdue. I was asked what I think the afterlife was like for them.
I didn't answer right away. I've learned that such a thing can't be handled with meaningless platitudes, so I thought about it for a bit. What I finally said may not make a lot of sense, but it did seem to convey at least a sense of peace to my suffering friend.
Our life here on Earth is governed by several limitations. Some we understand, others we don't. There are some who live well into triple digit age, while others are here for a much shorter time. This is particularly hard to understand when the passing of children are involved. I lost a granddaughter who was only five months old, and had some hard conversations in prayer as to why. Our mortal bodies are incredibly resilient, yet can be incredibly fragile at the same time. In my experience, I know that I was sent back without a choice, that I still had work to do. That is counter to others who were given the choice to go towards the Light, or return to mortal life. No, I don't know why either. The knowledge that has been gently pressed upon me over the years is that we come here with a mission. For some, that particular mission is accomplished early. Others may require a much longer span of time.
My own Mother was first diagnosed with cancer in 1975. She had surgery, and had seven more years of life. Then she had some female surgery which stirred up the cancer cells, and she relapsed, finally passing in the spring of 1982. I had a hard time understanding that, until I began to recount what happened in those seven extra years. She saw both of her children get married, and was able to enjoy her first two grandchildren. That's a lot of living in such a short time. It was a gift to her, in response to what was uppermost in her heart. It was our third child, the middle girl, who feels that loss most strongly. She has told me how cheated she felt that a relationship with her grandmother was denied to her. I, too feel somewhat cheated by the loss of a grandmother and grandfather before I was born. From what I have been told, they were remarkable people.
What I finally told my friend was this. While we are here, we occupy a mortal form, full of faults and imperfections. But when that vessel inevitably ceases to function, what survives is that essential spark, call it soul, spirit, whatever. When we leave here, we enter that realm we have come to call Heaven. Since we have shed our physical bodies, we leave behind any pain or physical limitations we might have had. We leave behind gender, since there is no need for that anymore. Freed from earthly concerns, we also leave behind hate, anger, jealousy, greed, lust, regret...any other mortal failings you might list. What remains is the purified essence of what we truly are. In that new existence, we exist as light and love.
In this new life, there is no yesterday, no tomorrow, no past or future. We exist in a perfect form, in a perfect moment that is beyond anything we understand as time. On earth, we live a linear existence, driven by clock and calendar. In Heaven, there is only now. I know that's nebulous and perhaps a bit hard to understand, but know that I am desperately trying to explain something that is patently beyond explaining, a tough thing for a writer to admit.
And yet, for most it remains a dark unknown. I understand those who cling fiercely to life to the end. After all, life, even in its most painful and debilitating moments, is a known thing. Unless one has been given this glimpse that some of us have had, it is truly walking into a frightful passage. All I can tell you is that in the time I was there, I experienced a wealth of emotion. But fear was not one of them. I would have been perfectly happy to stay there, bathed in that perfect light which I know now is the love of God, so pure and powerful that it is a visible thing. I felt the kind of joy that once experienced, one yearns only to be back in its presence. But I also understood that I wasn't done. I had to go back.
I won't bore you with all that has happened since that day, only that I have an inkling of what I am still doing here. I've come to understand the the world, in all its current agony, is unfolding according to the divine plan. What I tell people is that this is God's movie, and I'm sitting in the theater. The ills of the world I can't remedy. But God sends people across my path at different times that I can try to help. I don't have the capacity to heal 6 billion human beings. But I can care for a single human soul. I am much more aware of those opportunities when they occur, and I respond appropriately.
We all like to join groups. But groups dilute the power of the individual. When the multitudes came to Jesus to be healed, He could simply have raised His hands above the crowd and said, "You are all healed!". And they would have been. But he didn't do that, did he? He took the time and effort to touch and heal each individual. Every soul is precious, every one valued, every one loved beyond measure. As Jesus loved each individual, so must we act when the opportunity presents itself. We can't help millions at a time, but we can help one at a time. And that's where we should focus.
As time goes on, I know that more knowledge and insights will be made aware to me as I am ready to understand them. I must be patient.
In a couple of months, I will be 66 years old. I don't know how much time is left, but I do know that its not the years that need to be counted, but instead what I do with them.
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