As my mother used to say, old age is an adventure; so, after a winter when the retired snow birds return to the great white north, you never know what to expect.
I’ll say. We had heard a little about Lenny’s heart problem during his winter in Arizona already from another neighbor who had gone down to visit. We had heard of Lenny nodding off while playing cards, and then of his report that his heart kept stop beating, dang it, and how he had to go to the hospital for a pacemaker. Bummer, but usual enough. The story from Lenny, however, was way more interesting, as Lenny himself told it at the last neighborhood party.
We can start at the hospital, where bells are going off as Lenny’s heart just keeps stopping. Doctors rush in and make way for an emergency operation. “I’m gonna die,” says Lenny, and the nurse tells him, “We have our eyes on you and we’re not gonna lose you!” Lenny gets some drugs; as he is rolled into the operation room, he gets cantankerous and asks, “Which leg are ya gonna cut off, the left or the right?” The doctor looks at his paper and responds, puzzled, “Why, none at all. This is open heart surgery.” “Then make sure of it!” They are going to stop his heart with a drug so that they can operate, and then restart it. It’s one hell of a scary procedure.
Lenny is told to count backwards from ten. Lenny reaches seven and then…he is in a dark corridor. He can turn to the left or to the right; to his left is a dark tunnel; to his right, a room where a bright light is coming through. Of course he goes to the light. He passes through the portal and is blinded by the light coming from a huge man on a throne.
A wise-guy neighbor asks, “Is he black or white?” “The light was too bright – I couldn’t tell.” Wise-guy me then asks, “Was he male or female?” “Male.” To which I say, “God is a man!” and the women groan.
Lenny remains straight-faced and the story continues:
He says he is bathed in love, in bliss. The man on a throne says, “It is not your time. You have to go back.” He replies, “But I don’t want to!” The resplendent man tells him, “You are not done yet; you have more to do.” And back Lenny comes. With an aside, he tells us that he woke up with the biggest “woody” of his life, but apparently that’s what happens after a pacemaker is put in place. At least to a man. A wonder they don’t market it on ads during football games.
But Lenny ends seriously, saying, “I am no longer afraid of death. I now know something greater happens to us when we die.” To which we are all impressed – but not too much. Not too much because this could have been scripted by Redundant Production Studios; because this story is so patent that it only gets a “By golly, what a day, huh?” and then the conversation rolls on to something else.
It shouldn’t. God is probably not a big man on a shiny throne, but he is not a light in a cloud either, as Moses saw him. In fact, he is undoubtedly not a “he” as we understand that, woody aside. But that is how we might understand him, He or whatever manifestations he might have of himself. And we do not enter a room such as we might have in a house or even a palace, and there probably aren’t dark tunnels of the variety that we might see at an old mining operation. It doesn’t matter – the story is the same, and from this sameness we should learn something. In fact, when Ramon Moody first published his findings of the Near Death experience in the 1970’s, it was the very redundancy of the accounts that made the information so exciting. These were not individual accounts of the brain in near death, but a genuine motif.
Once we understand that ALL of our experiences are filtered through our consciousness, we can see the importance of this: when we all see a tree in much the same way, we confirm to ourselves that something that represents our idea of a tree over there really does exist; just as, when we all experience this light, this tunnel, this radiant being, this message, we know that this idea of an afterlife is not just in our individual heads, but exists, just as the tree does. As humans, or post - humans working with a human conscious, we probably do not see the totality of the post-life reality, but we do see it as humans. And as other researches have shown, this reality differs little from culture to culture. The garments, the room or tunnel, the way of the “being of light,” these things vary, but the motif is there – that is, the things experienced carry the same meaning. Which means it is as real as we can see real, just like the tree.
That should be a big deal to all of us. It might also bring more hope to many, more than the usual religious stuff. According to numerous studies, for those who experience near death, it is blissful to most, regardless of religious affiliation, or of any at all. Some do go to the dark side; those are few, but (almost disturbingly) they, too, happen to the good and bad, the religious or not, alike. I don’t really know what it means, but it sounds like the grace we have within is measured by standards other than those we understand.
That is a question to ponder, but that something greater and better exists seems possible, even probable, through these tales of near death, tales that have multiplied because of modern medicine, because so many more patients are revived. And here’s the good thing: those who do have the NDE almost universally become more spiritual, more giving, and just plain better people. It might just be, then, that the experience itself is to better those people’s lives, and through them, ours; just as the negative experiences might have some positive teaching effect in the long run as well. It might be that the real afterlife is nothing like what people experience in NDE’s at all, that it is all a learning experience, but regardless, it does show that there is an active and usually beneficent spiritual force acting in our lives. If we were smarter than the average bear, this would be enough to brighten our lives, and strengthen our hopes. Redundancy in the truth can only mean that the truth is more likely to be true.
To which, Lenny couldn’t care less. To him it was real regardless, and God awaits him with a better life after he dies. I do not envy his time in the OR, but I do envy that certainty.
I’ll say. We had heard a little about Lenny’s heart problem during his winter in Arizona already from another neighbor who had gone down to visit. We had heard of Lenny nodding off while playing cards, and then of his report that his heart kept stop beating, dang it, and how he had to go to the hospital for a pacemaker. Bummer, but usual enough. The story from Lenny, however, was way more interesting, as Lenny himself told it at the last neighborhood party.
We can start at the hospital, where bells are going off as Lenny’s heart just keeps stopping. Doctors rush in and make way for an emergency operation. “I’m gonna die,” says Lenny, and the nurse tells him, “We have our eyes on you and we’re not gonna lose you!” Lenny gets some drugs; as he is rolled into the operation room, he gets cantankerous and asks, “Which leg are ya gonna cut off, the left or the right?” The doctor looks at his paper and responds, puzzled, “Why, none at all. This is open heart surgery.” “Then make sure of it!” They are going to stop his heart with a drug so that they can operate, and then restart it. It’s one hell of a scary procedure.
Lenny is told to count backwards from ten. Lenny reaches seven and then…he is in a dark corridor. He can turn to the left or to the right; to his left is a dark tunnel; to his right, a room where a bright light is coming through. Of course he goes to the light. He passes through the portal and is blinded by the light coming from a huge man on a throne.
A wise-guy neighbor asks, “Is he black or white?” “The light was too bright – I couldn’t tell.” Wise-guy me then asks, “Was he male or female?” “Male.” To which I say, “God is a man!” and the women groan.
Lenny remains straight-faced and the story continues:
He says he is bathed in love, in bliss. The man on a throne says, “It is not your time. You have to go back.” He replies, “But I don’t want to!” The resplendent man tells him, “You are not done yet; you have more to do.” And back Lenny comes. With an aside, he tells us that he woke up with the biggest “woody” of his life, but apparently that’s what happens after a pacemaker is put in place. At least to a man. A wonder they don’t market it on ads during football games.
But Lenny ends seriously, saying, “I am no longer afraid of death. I now know something greater happens to us when we die.” To which we are all impressed – but not too much. Not too much because this could have been scripted by Redundant Production Studios; because this story is so patent that it only gets a “By golly, what a day, huh?” and then the conversation rolls on to something else.
It shouldn’t. God is probably not a big man on a shiny throne, but he is not a light in a cloud either, as Moses saw him. In fact, he is undoubtedly not a “he” as we understand that, woody aside. But that is how we might understand him, He or whatever manifestations he might have of himself. And we do not enter a room such as we might have in a house or even a palace, and there probably aren’t dark tunnels of the variety that we might see at an old mining operation. It doesn’t matter – the story is the same, and from this sameness we should learn something. In fact, when Ramon Moody first published his findings of the Near Death experience in the 1970’s, it was the very redundancy of the accounts that made the information so exciting. These were not individual accounts of the brain in near death, but a genuine motif.
Once we understand that ALL of our experiences are filtered through our consciousness, we can see the importance of this: when we all see a tree in much the same way, we confirm to ourselves that something that represents our idea of a tree over there really does exist; just as, when we all experience this light, this tunnel, this radiant being, this message, we know that this idea of an afterlife is not just in our individual heads, but exists, just as the tree does. As humans, or post - humans working with a human conscious, we probably do not see the totality of the post-life reality, but we do see it as humans. And as other researches have shown, this reality differs little from culture to culture. The garments, the room or tunnel, the way of the “being of light,” these things vary, but the motif is there – that is, the things experienced carry the same meaning. Which means it is as real as we can see real, just like the tree.
That should be a big deal to all of us. It might also bring more hope to many, more than the usual religious stuff. According to numerous studies, for those who experience near death, it is blissful to most, regardless of religious affiliation, or of any at all. Some do go to the dark side; those are few, but (almost disturbingly) they, too, happen to the good and bad, the religious or not, alike. I don’t really know what it means, but it sounds like the grace we have within is measured by standards other than those we understand.
That is a question to ponder, but that something greater and better exists seems possible, even probable, through these tales of near death, tales that have multiplied because of modern medicine, because so many more patients are revived. And here’s the good thing: those who do have the NDE almost universally become more spiritual, more giving, and just plain better people. It might just be, then, that the experience itself is to better those people’s lives, and through them, ours; just as the negative experiences might have some positive teaching effect in the long run as well. It might be that the real afterlife is nothing like what people experience in NDE’s at all, that it is all a learning experience, but regardless, it does show that there is an active and usually beneficent spiritual force acting in our lives. If we were smarter than the average bear, this would be enough to brighten our lives, and strengthen our hopes. Redundancy in the truth can only mean that the truth is more likely to be true.
To which, Lenny couldn’t care less. To him it was real regardless, and God awaits him with a better life after he dies. I do not envy his time in the OR, but I do envy that certainty.
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