An ambulance came and scraped me off the pavement, where I’d landed after my flight was interrupted when my head hit the guardrail, after being ejected from a vehicle traveling 60 mph. A body in motion remains in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. I had no vital signs.
It was night. My long hair was disheveled. I felt more peaceful than I have ever felt in a state of consciousness. I looked down at the hair all over my face and observed, objectively, with no emotion, “It’s a shame to die on a day when you’re so profoundly unhappy.”
As soon as I was released from the hospital, people began to tell me how “lucky” I’d been. I didn’t appreciate the sentiment. I will decide when I am lucky, thank you very much.
For quite a while I believed in an afterlife, but not an omnipotent deity. I read an article on neuroscience and the out of body experience. It seems a lot of people have the white light tunnel experience but not me. Likely due to the fact that I’m a heathen non-believer.
The writer suggested that the near death experience is nothing more than misfiring neurons as the brain signs off and the body dies. It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. I can’t remember where I was before I was born so I’m not worried about what happens after I die.
I don’t believe in god. I cannot. I don’t see proof. I believe in what I am capable of doing all by myself. I believe in science.
Last week, a sweet, old woman asked me if I believed in god. I told her I did not. She asked me if my parents believed, I told her they did. She voiced the opinion that I’d believe too. I cannot imagine a time or circumstance in which I will believe in god. I am certainly not going to try to deprive a sweet, old woman of the beliefs that comfort her.