The Other Side of Heaven

A blood-stained hospital gown that barely covers my naked body fails to provide comfort. Doctors and medical staff wear panicked faces as they attempt to save my life. A flat line crash cart pushed by a nurse is placed near monitors. A voice yells, "He has lost too much blood. His hemoglobin is below six!"

Another voice yells, "We're losing him!"

Family members I knew before their passing persuade me to go through a tunnel of white light. Their ghostly images call my name, guiding me to an elderly man who sits upon a tree. His hands are extended, as though he knows me. Brilliant watercolors spin like a rotating bicycle wheel, somehow encouraging me to enter this revolving tunnel. Melodic musical notes, along with my previous life choices, merge onto a large pictorial matrix of my entire life. Love is the over-riding message that hums in my ear. Over and over, this universal message consumes me with such velocity that I feel I will not grasp its full essence. Yet, I do. Something beyond my logical thinking allows a stream of future events to play before me. Writing books, workshops, lectures, traveling to distant shores, radio and guest appearances on television shows pertaining to my near death, seem perfectly natural. A voice speaks softly through this spinning wheel of light, declaring love and kindness are mankind's only keys to earth's future salvation. This I accept as my new truth to live by.

Vibrant colors linked to harmonious musical notes seem to amplify with a template of geometric codes and quantum physics. The next cycle of my life review begins to unfold. But then a faraway voice brings me back to the operating table. His distressed voice compels me to view my dying body from a place I call the other side.

"His pressure is dropping. He is going into V-tach! Give him another amp of atropine, now!"

"Stand clear!" Another voice shouts.

"Clear!"

Paddles thrust my torso upward. Seconds turn to split seconds. I see a surgeon's worried face. My physical body is on the O.R. table, but I am hovering above the ceiling looking down. Waves of white light descend upon me, thrusting my spirit back into the tunnel. Global intelligence encases my thought process at such momentum; I am amazed at my ability to digest its content. I witness all of mankind's injustices and promptly comprehend that we must make amends to those we have wronged. It is not what we have done, though critical, but how quickly we make amends for those we have hurt. Moments of human error are like dress rehearsals. Practicing daily kindness prepares us for opening night. Whether we believe or doubt, the law of cause and effect are shaped because of what we do or don't do. Kindness is the key.

Flashes of insight continue to unfold as my life review plays before me. Should have and could have are common dialogues I know too well. These têteà-tête thoughts are heard like a cosmic auditorium inside my head. My own voice says, "No one will see this but me." These haunting words were my ongoing life lesson. I witness all my selfish actions with the purest of compassion. I honor it, come to terms with it, and move on to the next life review image. Suddenly a burst of brightness consumes my non-physical form. Golden-white lights envelop me, and a voice says. "You are the captain of your life vessel. Navigate wisely." I know this voice. It's my voice. It speaks again. "Choice is a gift." Then everything that I see or feel goes into an in-between place. A male voice says.

"Mr. Anthony! Mr. Anthony! Can you hear me?" My eyes are heavy, and pain devours my upper torso. Someone stands over me. I feel his breath. But I cannot see him. All is shadowed in dark.

"Mr. Anthony. I'm Dr. M Are you awake? You have been in ICU for over three weeks. Can you hear me? Mr. Anthony?"

I...