Life Goes On A Skeptic’s Afterlife Education. By John Weiss All Pages, Copyright John Weiss, 2013 Cover design by Rebecca Swift Dedication This book is dedicated to those with a very open mind who believe, or want to believe, that this life is just the beginning of a long and wonderful journey. Preface Life after death? “He’s a liar. He’s delusional.” That’s what many people will be saying about me when they read this book. Honestly, I can’t blame them. I’m even quite skeptical about all this myself. The mere notion of a life after death experience appears to be a massive stretch of my imagination. But it’s all true; at least I think it is. If this profound, let alone confounding, experience of mine is true, then life is even more of a miracle than it already is. To me, life is now more precious than I ever suspected and, as I have now learned, must be experienced to its fullest every moment of the day. Of course, there’s nothing new about the concept of life after death. The whole idea has been around as long as, well, civilized people have been around. It’s part of most peoples’ most intimate belief systems. But not mine. I fervently believed that when you died, that was it. Adios forever. That’s probably why I’m still having trouble fully accepting my awakening. What I’d like to do now is take a moment and tell you a few more things about myself that may help you form an opinion. First of all, I don’t drink. Not a drop. I’m diabetic, and alcohol conflicts with my drugs. Speaking of drugs, I’m clean in that department too, unless you consider insulin, aspirin and Tylenol substances of abuse. Now I have to come clean about coffee. I’m seriously addicted. I’ll have to admit the same for tobacco. I smoke a pipe. It makes me look like a professor, but that’s not a valid excuse. I don’t believe in UFOs and little green men. I don’t see or believe in ghosts. I think the horoscope industry is a scam. I’m not into conspiracy theories. I think that people who are against gun control should be shot. I’m not a member of any cult. And I’ve never been religious, even for the sake of tradition. I’m, fortunately, a cancer survivor. I was diagnosed about six years ago and had to endure very major surgery and months of chemotherapy. It was horrible. Even when I was at my worst, I never gave a moment’s thought to the comforting notion that maybe, just maybe, there was something after this life. However, during my hundreds of hours of chemo torture I perfected the art of meditation. Thanks to this, I was able to experience the awakening you’re going to learn a lot more about. The science of it all Science is an integral part of understanding (and maybe even believing in) the survival of death. But the theories can be very difficult to understand. So, I’ve tried to put everything I’ve learned into the simplest possible terms, precisely as it was related to me. At one point during the writing of this book, I seriously considered leaving the science out, but it’s just too important and too fascinating. I also considered having a science-only chapter, but it wouldn’t have complemented my experience. So, I’m reporting the science in the same sequence as it was explained to me and in virtually the same words. Religious connection? Christ no, I don’t want anyone to think that this is a ‘religious’ book. Indeed, some may perceive it to be because of the overall implications. The book may actually reinforce the concept of faith with many who seek assurance. It may also make the most devout atheists think twice about their staunch convictions. All I can say is that it should be read with an open mind. A very open mind. If you get goose bumps, great. If you get pissed off, that’s your right. Not so funny The concepts presented in this book are of a very serious nature. In fact, few things in the world could be as serious. And during the time I experienced the events you’re about to read, I was very nervous. And when I’m nervous, I attempt to take the edge off it with humor. It calms my jangled nerves. So, you’re going to find a degree of humor throughout this book. Please don’t be put off or offended by it. Likewise, do your best to overlook any language you deem to be offensive. There’s nothing like a foul four letter word to express an emotion. “Death – the last sleep? No, the final awakening.” Walter Scott “Memories are all we really own.” Elias Lieberman “Memory is the treasury and guardian of all things.” Marcus T. Cicero “Memory is the scribe of the soul.” Aristotle “Memory is the mother of all wisdom.” Aeschylus “Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.” Kahill Gibran “Life is all memory except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going.” Tennessee Williams “Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.” Charles William Dement “Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.” Socrates “Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, even our action. Without it, we are nothing.” Luis Bunuel “As death, when we come to consider it closely, is the true goal of our existence, I have formed during the last few years such close relations with this best and truest friend of mankind, that his image is no longer terrifying to me, but is indeed very soothing and consoling! And I thank my God for graciously granting me the opportunity of learning that death is the key which unlocks the door to our true happiness.” Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Chapter 1 Pleasant Dreams It had been a long, tiresome January day. And I was glad to curl up with a book before I went to sleep. I was about half way into a really gripping World War 2 story about Iwo Jima, and I just had to read one more chapter. That’s what I always tell myself, ‘just one more chapter.’ World War 2 history books have fascinated me for years. From the battle strategies to the weaponry to the human drama, it’s all beyond exciting to me. What’s more, if I’ve had a bad day, reading about all the terror and misery that millions of people endured makes me feel as though my problems are rather trivial. When I finally put my Iwo book down and turned off the light, I began a ritual I practice that thoroughly relaxes me: meditation. It’s the best way I know to fall soundly asleep. Most importantly, it opened the door to the unbelievable world I’m going to tell you about. I tried meditation many years ago, but was unable to concentrate or focus my mind. But when I was in chemotherapy, I perfected it and became sort of an expert. During chemo, I spent countless hours sitting in a comfortable chair while the poison slowly flowed through my veins. Sure, you can read, but even that becomes tedious, especially when you get dizzy and nauseous. So, I learned to completely relax, and remove just about everything from my mind. It’s not easy. I didn’t chant a mantra, but simply focused my mind’s eye on an acorn and buried all my thoughts. Why an acorn instead of a leaf, a mountain, a bicycle or a raspberry pastry? An acorn was the first thing that popped into my mind. They’re pleasing to look at, and there’s really nothing about them that will lead your mind to other thoughts. After my drooping eyelids told me to put the damn book down, my mind was racing with very vivid images of the tumultuous Iwo Jima battlefield, and it took the passive little acorn a few minutes to help me eliminate them. As usual, meditation sent me off to dreamland, but, this time, to a land that has profoundly changed my life. The next thing I remember was the annoying sound of my Casio alarm clock welcoming me to a new day, a hot shower and a short walk to breakfast. By the time I strolled the seven blocks to my favorite breakfast spot, the Juan Valdez Café, I was literally craving my next wakeup call: a nice, hot cup of coffee. So I ordered a Café con leche and my usual almond croissant. After about three bites, a dream from the previous night popped into my consciousness. It was about Iwo Jima. Well, not just about Iwo Jima. I was there. In the middle of a real shit storm of a battle. At first thought, it all made sense. After all, I was entrenched in a rather intense book about the subject. So why not dream about it? But what a dream this was. So realistic. Too realistic. It’s very rare that I ever remember a dream. And when I do, it’s usually murky and surreal. Sometimes I’m trying to run, but my legs are as heavy as lead. Sometimes I have the ability to fly.