My Near Death Experience

Have you ever seen these people on TV who claim to have had a near-death experience (NDE)? They all claim seeing "clouds" or "lights" or floating in a room outside of their body. Some also talk about seeing angels and long dead relatives. These are some of the common experiences people who claim they've had near-death experience.


People who hear about these near-death experiences usually think the person telling the story is "crazy."

I never used to believe that stuff at all either... That is, until it happened to me. Yes, I have had a near death experience. Actually, this has happened to me twice. Both times were in Japan. This post is about the first time it happened to me. It must have been about 1995 or so.


I was once told by a Za Zen Buddhist priest that having a near-death experience was the fastest way to enlightenment. I know that my thinking radically changed, but don't know if I could say I was enlightened. I don't think I am a very enlightened person, but I have had experiences that should have enlightened me. I have had these so-called near-death experiences. Well, actually, I'm not happy to be able to say that I've had them twice. I reckon that, in a way, it should be sort of embarrassing. I reckon that near-death experiences should enlighten anyone who has a lick of good sense. I guess I don't have enough sense.

But you can't really run around telling people this sort of thing. Why? Because if you tell people that you died and came back to life, no one will believe you. They'll all think that you are nuts. I'm not a Christian but I am well versed in the bible. In the Book of Mark, when Jesus toured the countryside and healed the sick, he told those whom he had healed to, "Tell no one." He did that because, well, because it's obvious. If you were deathly ill and then you witnessed a miracle and were cured, and told people what happened, they'd all think you were nuts... Of course.


It's like telling people that you were abducted by aliens or have seen ghosts... Or even an exorcism....

You see people who talk about these things on TV sometimes, but you can't figure out if it's real or not unless you've experienced it yourself. George Foreman talked about it. I saw him on a TV interview talking about his near death experience. When I heard his words, I knew that he wasn't lying. I've been there. I've done that.


After a boxing match that George lost he was taken to the locker room and there he passed out and says that he "died" and had an out of body experience. He says that he was falling in a dark tunnel into pitch black. It was then and there he knew that he had died. He then says that he thought to himself,


"So this is death? Oh well, at least I believe in God." George then goes on to tell about how a giant hand caught him as he was falling and then he "...felt the blood of Jesus pouring through his veins."


Some may know this story. When George recovered, he was a different man. He was no longer angry at the world and he retired from boxing and became a preacher. It's a great story.


My story isn't that great because I was never heavy-weight champion of the world... But my story is similar.

This isn't what I did, but it's just as stupid

I don't really want to go into the complete details (it's embarrassing how stupid I was - it was an accidental drug overdose) but I was doing something that I wasn't supposed to be doing. You know how that is? Accidents always happen when you are screwing around and not being careful...


Those sorts of things happen all the time. And that's why accidents happen all the time; people not being careful and doing dumb things.


Anyhow, after my little, er, "mishap," I knew I was in no condition to do anything. If I called an ambulance, and if I recovered, I'd probably get arrested. If I went out anywhere, I'd probably collapse and the results would be the same. So I did what I thought would be the safest thing to prevent a heart attack, I laid down on the floor and tried to stay calm.


Later on, I don't know how much later on, I can only recall that I opened my eyes and I was floating in the air with my back against the ceiling. It didn't seem the least bit strange to me that I was floating in the air and looking down. I was in no pain and felt fine.


Below me, on the ground was the body of a young man and there were three extremely old gentlemen leaning over the young man. The three old gentlemen were all dressed completely in white. (And, no they didn't have any wings.) The entire scene had a misty, almost fog-like like appearance as if it were happening in the clouds but we were inside a room.


I looked at them as they knelt over while silently looking at the young man. I couldn't tell if they were praying or examining him. I spoke up, pointed to the young man, and said to them,


"Hey! That guy doesn't look right. There's something wrong with that guy..."


The old gentlemen didn't respond or seem to notice me at all. I kept repeating the sentences but they ignored me. Then, I paused for a moment. I looked at the young man and he looked strangely familiar to me. Yes! He did! I knew who it was! That guy laying on the ground was me. 


But it wasn't me! It's hard to explain. That wasn't me lying on the floor, "me" (I) was floating in the air...but it was my earthly body laying there lifeless and still. 


I spoke to the men,


"Hey! That's me! That guy is me! No! I can't die! I have children! I have lots of things to do I have too many things to take care of before I die! No!" I think I began shouting...

It was then and there that the man sitting in the middle oh-so slowly turned his head up towards me and his eyes met mine. What I saw shocked me. His face looked as if he must have been 150-years-old. His hair was completely white. His eyes were sunken in and his face incredibly wrinkled. I have never seen such an old person in my life before.


He looked up at me hanging against the ceiling. In his eyes were anger and revulsion.


The other two men never even glanced at me. The man in the middle just stared at me not saying a word. No! It wasn't a stare. It was a glare! I could read his mind. I could understand the anger in his eyes. He was thinking,


"What... a... disgusting... waste... of... life!" 


I paused. I knew he was right. It was a complete and disgusting waste of life. This realization was like an arrow being shot into my heart. I felt ashamed of  myself. 


I then no longer wanted to protest. I felt defeated. I shut my mouth and then I closed my eyes. I then realized that I was dead for sure but, for some strange reason, I didn't feel sad anymore. I can't remember if my eyes were opened or closed but I saw my life like a movie. It went by me like a flash. I saw my mom; I saw my childhood; my childhood memories.... I actually felt okay.


But that's the last thing I remember about that part; seeing my life and feeling okay....


I don't know exactly how many hours passed, but I woke up on the floor and it was nearly dawn. My clothes were soaking wet and I was freezing. I did my best to dry myself off and then I went home.


It would be a few years later that I would enter drug rehabilitation... I was glad I did. I was also glad that I was able to experience this so-called near-death experience. It changed me a lot. I am also no longer angry. I am truly striving to be a better person and to make a difference. I know that I am one of the truly fortunate few on this earth. 


These stories are so ridiculous and outrageous that no one would make them up. Yet, like I said, if you tell people this, they'll think you are crazy. When I was a younger man, I would laugh at these stories... But, I don't laugh at them anymore. It's easy, it seems to me, to tell a charlatan from the real thing.


I just now searched for you for a Youtube video that deals with this subject, and I found a good one. I am, again, totally blown away how close some of these people's experiences are to mine. 

I can't say that I wish for you a near-death experience because that involves something very dangerous or traumatic... But, if you do, and come back fine, then I envy you.


Just don't tell too many people about it. They'll think you're crazy.

Wishing, Hoping and Believing

Wishing, hoping and believing. The three are close in definition. But there's a huge difference. I think people too often get them confused and use them interchangeably to their own disadvantage. I think it is best to know exactly what they mean. Words have meanings and using them incorrectly can cause a disadvantageous situation.

Wish is an intransitive verb. Merriam Webster defines "wish" as, "To have a desire for (as something unattainable)." Related words are, "crave," "hunger," "covet," "desire."


"Unattainable"? Well, that's no good. It looks to me here that "wish" is sort of a waste of time.


"Hope" is defined as, "To cherish as desire with anticipation," or "to desire with expectation of obtainment."  "Expectation of obtainment"? Well, that's a bit better.


How about believing? "Believe" is defined as "To have a firm religious faith" or "to accept something as true, genuine or real."


I think, often times, that wishing and hoping can be a waste of time... Wishing is fine for children... Hoping too... But hoping, for adults, can be an awful waste of time.... I often hear from people at work situations that they "hope" things get better... Folks, "Hope" is a terrible business plan.


Hoping that things get better at work is like being a leaf on the ocean being blown every which way. Is this your plan for your future and for your families well-being? Hope?


Belief....Believing, and only believing, is the only one of the three that can deliver your hearts desire. Believing, along with doing the necessary preparation in order to achieve your beliefs, is what must be done.


Think about when the Wright Brother's made their first airplane flight or the old story in the bible when Jesus walked on water. It was impossible for man to fly. Did the Wright Brothers fly because of hope or because of wishes? No. They flew, in spite of all, because they believed that they could and they made the preparations in order to do so.


I also believe that the story of Jesus walking on water is a parable. Everyone knows that it is impossible for man to walk on water (even if he is the son of god - you and I are the son, the children, of god.... Don't they say we are all god's children?) So, I think the story of Jesus walking on water is a representation that if you believe, really believe, then you can do the impossible. After walking on water Jesus said, "I told you. All you have to do is to believe."


Belief moves mountains.


Also, instead of always wanting more and always climbing that mountain towards success, you also need to stop and make base camp. One cannot simply climb and climb Mount Everest. They must stop along the way to daily create base camp to rest before they can continue the journey the next day. You must do the same. You need to stop and to take an assessment of what you have and to give thanks to your loved ones and to your god.


Here's what I do, and I do this religiously everyday; I write down in my notebook this, "Thank you god for all the truly wonderful things I have and all the truly wonderful things I am about to receive."


I do this because, instead of always wanting and wishing, and hoping, or desiring things, I want to give thanks for the great things I already have. If I can wake up everyday and know in my heart, really believe, that I am one of, if not thee, most fortunate people in the world, I will create a positive and happy existence for myself and my loved ones and all the people who I come in contact with.  


I have another friend who has an ill partner. We met the other day and I related this story to him:


When my 1 1/2 year old daughter was diagnosed as having a rare, deadly childhood cancer, I was devastated. She was given a very low chance of survival. That particular type of cancer is extremely rare and, in Japan, about 2 or 3 kids get it a year... Most of them die within the first 6 months.


I sought out the help of a professional priest to help me and guide me with the battle I was about to enter alongside my daughter and my wife.


One day, at the beginning when I was especially distraught and worried, I told the priest, 


"I have realized how to cure my daughter and have come to understand the way. All I need to do is to get the doctors and nurses to believe, to really believe, in their hearts, that she will recover and then she will. That's what I must do."


To that, the priest replied,


"Mike! It doesn't matter what they believe. All that matters is what you believe."


Those words! That moment! It was like the skies opened up and god reached his hand down to me. 


Of course! It was all so simple! Why didn't I see it sooner? It only matters what I believe! My belief can move mountains! 


From then on, I didn't wish nor want, nor hope, that my daughter would recover from this rare and terrible disease, I knew. I knew it without a doubt. I also prepared and did what was necessary for that outcome because I believed. 


That was 16 years ago. My daughter is now a healthy, happy, beautiful high school student looking forward to college someday soon. 


She is only the second child to have ever overcome that cancer in Japan's history. She won't be the last.

At 16-years-old

You can do this too. Anyone can. Like Jesus said, "All you need to do is to have faith."


From today, take account of all the good things you have. Be thankful for them. If you have a sorrow, then take account of that too and do what is necessary and what is required so that you can believe in a positive and good outcome.


The only things that can be borne out of fear and worry will be more of the same. Prepare and do what is necessary and believe in the positive outcome.


You can create your own reality. You can accomplish the impossible. And when you do, don't be surprised, you won't have been the first and you certainly won't be the last.

Jesus Walks on Water Mark 6:45 ~ 51

⁴⁷ Later that night, the boat was in the middle of the lake, and he was alone on land. ⁴⁸ He saw the disciples straining at the oars, because the wind was against them. Shortly before dawn he went out to them, walking on the lake. He was about to pass by them, ⁴⁹ but when they saw him walking on the lake, they thought he was a ghost. They cried out, ⁵⁰ because they all saw him and were terrified.

   Immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” ⁵¹ Then he climbed into the boat with them, and the wind died down. They were completely amazed.  


For Wendy... You amazed us all (except daddy. I knew you could do it). Thanks for your love and inspiration.

My Life is Like a "B" Horror Movie

I have been thinking about writing another book. Well, actually, I've been thinking that since 2005, since the first, and only, book I ever wrote came out.


It was a terrible book. I hope I can write a better one next time... Then again, on second thought, a third grader could probably write a better book than my first one. It was crappy.


I've been inspired to write a new book by three things. One was my new favorite blogger, who wrote a post entitled; Why and How I Self-Published a Book. (If that link doesn't work, try this one: http://www.jamesaltucher.com/2011/05/why-and-how-i-self-published-a-book/)


In that post he explains why and how he wrote the book. I like the ideas. Actually, I hate publishers and I hated dealing with those people who published my first book and never want to do that again. I also want to publish the book and give it away for totally and completely free.

I want to tell stories. I think I am good at it. And, at this time in my life, I am not so interested in doing it for money. Maybe someday, but not now. 


My biggest problem was how I was going to tie up all these bizarre stories I have in my mind (all true stories, too!) and all this crazy sh*t I've done (and lived to tell the story about) into one coherent book.... 


Now, I realized how to do it... Hence the title of this post.


Another thing that has inspired me is that, since coming back from that hellish trip to the USA, I think my writing has, for some inexplicable reason, improved by leaps and bounds... Not that you could tell by my readership which sits where it always has.


The third thing that inspired me was I met a lady today who was an acupuncturist trained in Austin Texas. She didn't look like she was from Texas. She was either Korean or Japanese and studied in Austin. That seems strange to me. Doesn't that seem strange to you? I mean, here was this pretty Asian woman who learned acupuncture in Austin Texas? How does that work? Doesn't there seem like there is something strange about that?


Anyhow, when she told me she studied in Austin I told that I had been there before and that I thought people in Austin Texas were crazy... (As if anyone from Southern California has any right to call anyone else crazy! Southern California has the craziest people in the world, I think... Excepting for, maybe, New Yorkers...)


She laughed and agreed with me. Maybe she thought it were true or maybe I still have that killer charm with the ladies. Probably the former since I was at acupuncture and an 85-year-old man probably could turn their neck farther and faster than I could. I couldn't turn my neck at all.

JELLO BIAFRA & MOJO NIXON - 

ARE YOU DRINKIN' WITH ME WITH ME JESUS?

I started telling her and the other doctors about the one time I went to Austin Texas in 2005... Cindy Sheehan, the anti-war protestor mother whose son, Casey, had been killed in the war, was having a protest near the Bush ranch in Austin. There were people from around the world gathering there to see her and to support her protest against the Iraq war. Since I was a regular columnist for the well known Libertarian site Lew Rockwell.com, she asked me to come and show support from Japan. I accepted the invitation. Hence...


I might call this episode: Austin, Texas, USA, 2005: the Land of the Free


I told the acupuncturists about how I flew to the USA to join this protest. 


I had heard that the US authorities were frowning upon people going to Austin so, in order to hide my intentions, I flew into Atlanta Georgia and transferred there to a flight to Austin. In my twisted mind, I figured that if I flew into Atlanta first, and not Austin, the immigration and customs authorities wouldn't think twice about my intentions. I thought they'd definitely give me trouble if I flew in direct from Japan.


To make sure I had a good cover story, I created a fake google email account and sent myself an email claiming that it was from my cousin and that 110-year-old "Aunt Emma" was dying and that the entire family was waiting for me to hurry up and visit before it was too late. I printed that email out and it was good that I did. It seemed the immigration and customs agent was suspicious of me and when I showed him the letter and acted like I was about to cry, he let me go by immediately. 


I grabbed my Oscar award for best acting, er, I mean my connecting flight boarding pass and off to Austin I went. 


I finally arrived at Austin International airport after about 24 hours of traveling from Japan. I was exhausted. My great friend, Steve (not his real name) picked me up in his dirty pickup truck. He needed gas money, I gave it to him and we headed off to his place as that was where I was staying.


Like I said, I was exhausted and my brain fried. The last thing I needed was loud, fast hard-core fast thrash punk rock music blasting in my ear. Steve delivered it to me at pretty much full-volume all the way to his apartment.


Once arriving at the apartment, I told Steve that all I wanted was to have a shower, have a drink and go to sleep. The shower was no problem. The drink and sleep were another story.


Since it was a Sunday, Steve told me that Austin was a "dry" city and that alcohol sales were prohibited on Sundays. Christian nation and all. I couldn't believe it. Didn't Steve at least have a beer in the fridge? Nope. He didn't drink.


Snorting cocaine and smoking marijuana were another story, though. Steve began lighting up joints immediately as we entered his abode. 


"Mike, you can't buy any beer on Sunday's, it's against the law. So why don't you smoke one of these?" (As if smoking marijuana wasn't against the law!?)


"No. Really, Steve. I don't do that anymore. Seriously. I can't just go and buy a beer?"


"Nope. Not on a Sunday."


"But what about that convenience store around the corner? I can just go there and buy one, can't I?"


"Nope."


Not being the kind of guy who takes "no" for an answer, I changed clothes and headed out the door. I figured that money talks and that I could bribe my way into a beer or two. I walked into the convenience store and said to the clerk,


"Look. Here is my passport. See? I don't live in the USA. All I want to do is to buy a beer and go to sleep. I just came in from Japan and I'm exhausted." The clerk said,


"Wish I could help you but alcohol sales are illegal on Sundays."


"Yeah, I know that. How about if I give you $20 to sell me just one beer?" The clerk shook their head, "No!" I kept upping the bribe,


"$50, $80, $100!" No deal. The clerk said,


"I'd love to sell you a beer but the cases are all locked." I went to look, sure enough, they were all chained and padlocked closed. The chains were huge and the padlocks looked like something you'd see at Fort Knox.


I couldn't believe it. This was the USA. Texas of all places. Supposedly the hot seat of freedom and the land of the free. In Japan (a nation that was supposedly not nearly as free as the USA), I could buy a can of beer anytime I wanted to at anytime of the day or night (24/7) and walk down any public street drinking it anywhere I wanted. Not being able to buy a can of beer in the Land of the Free? In Texas of all places? "Alcohol sales illegal on a Sunday"!? What rubbish. I'd never heard of such a thing. Must be impossible. These people were joking.


I went back to my friend's apartment. By then another of his friend's had already shown up to meet me. My friend, Steve, laughed as he lit up another joint and said, "See? Told you that you couldn't buy any beer! Have a hit of one of these. This is good stuff!"


Still, I didn't want to get high on dope, I just wanted a drink to calm down and go to sleep. I asked Steve to call his friends and ask if they have anything to drink. 


"My friends don't drink alcohol, Mike. This is pretty much a dry county and my friends just smoke. Sure you don't want none of this?" He handed the joint to me.


"No. Really. Seriously. I don't do that anymore. It just makes me paranoid as hell and I'm already paranoid enough as it is."


Steve called around to his friends. Sure enough, no one had any drinks at home. One friend, though, suggested that he knew a "Speakeasy" where I might get a drink.


Speakeasy's were popular in the 1930's during Prohibition when the idiots in control of the government made drinking alcohol illegal across the United States. Underground bars, posing as tea and coffee houses, began popping up everywhere where people could get in, knowing a secret password, and have a drink. Here it was 2005 America and they still had them in Texas operating on Sundays. Steve's friend tried to get me into one. 


After several tries, he gave up. No dice. The bosses of the Speakeasy's were very strict about who they served alcohol to. I understood. My friend told me that if they were caught serving alcohol on a Sunday, they would go to prison. They didn't served booze to anyone they didn't know for years personally. You never know when an FBI sting will be setup to bust one of these operations (a FBI sting that will have cost millions of dollars over a few years just to bust some old guy serving whiskey to ten people....Good deal for the taxpayers, eh?)


What a wonderful country! I'm sure the Taliban would approve.


Unbelievable. Sunday in Austin Texas and there was no way one could buy even one can of beer. Like I said, compare that with unfree Tokyo Japan where one could buy a beer anytime of the day, 24 hours a day, and drink it anywhere they wanted too, even on a public street! So much for the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave.


Finally, one more friend of Steve's came over to meet me. He was a fan of my scribblings too. He felt sorry for my not being able to get a drink. 

A typical Sunday's entertainment in 

"God's Country"

"God's country!" He cynically proclaimed as he poured out lines of cocaine onto the glass table top.


Steve kept smoking marijuana, and this new friend kept chopping up cocaine. They both kept offering me some and I kept declining.


"All I wanted was one little drink, yet I couldn't have it." I said as I lay down on the sofa. The friend snorted the cocaine and rubbed his nose. Through his gasps he looked at me and said, 


"Mike! This is a dry county in a Christian country in the Land of the Free. Why is it you have a problem with that? Why do you hate the baby Jesus!?" He laughed sarcastically at the absurdity of it all and handed the straw towards me. I refused. After a 24 hour flight, snorting cocaine was the last thing I needed.


On the left of me, here's a guy breaking the law by smoking marijuana. On the right of me, a guy breaking the law doing cocaine. Me, in the middle, I cannot even buy a glass of wine or a beer just because it is a Sunday? What is this? Enforced Christianity? Didn't Jesus drink wine?


In the country that is supposed to be the Land of the Free, I can't even buy a can of beer on a Sunday? And this is the nation that is supposed to bring freedom and build democracy to people's in Iraq, Afghanistan and the Middle East?


Lord, help us. And please give me a drink.