March of 1991 had given us the gift of an early melt in Saskatchewan. There was little snow left on the lawn of my parent’s home and the streets appeared to be as clear as a summer’s day. My then husband and I had spent the evening having dinner and playing cards with my parents until about one in the evening. Being the designated driver of the night, I limited my indulgence to a glass of wine with supper and was completely sober when we headed off home.
As I was in the midst of unlocking the driver’s door a vehicle came speeding around the corner towards us. The driver lost control and swerved to the right. He followed this with an over correction that altered his heading to put our car and me personally directly in his path. Out of instinct, I tried to run away. He hit our car, then me launching me onto his hood. The car stopped when he hit the light standard in my parent’s driveway; momentum carrying me forward to land abruptly on the asphalt. The recounting of these events is by my ex-husband, as my mind blocked it all out.
Over the next three days, I faded in and out of awareness, not really knowing where I was. Miraculously, I had only a hairline fracture of the ribs and some bruising. The worst outcome was that I suffered a puncture to the back of my head and my olfactory nerve stopped functioning; leaving me without the sense of smell.
A visit to a psychic years later sent me on a quest to find something she spelled “Raki” in order to restore my sense of smell. In 1996, I met a man who told me it was not, in fact an Indian practice but Japanese and I could find a teacher right in the city.
Fast forward to my Level Two initiation into Reiki, where the missing parts of my car accident were to be revealed. I lay on the table with a talented new friend and budding practitioner. As she began to work on me, I became incredibly cold, shivering to the point that the teacher and her assistant both came to ensure I wouldn’t shake right off the massage table. In my mind, I saw the sparse snow on the lawn at my parents’, saw the lights of the ambulance as I lay on the cold driveway. I experienced the most incredible sense of being utterly alone in the world.
Out of nowhere, an amber light appeared above me, carrying with it an absolute, unconditional feeling of love. I felt overwhelmed with love and complete acceptance. I spoke aloud and said “Oh there you are!” as to someone who I have known all my existence. I followed this amber light presence into the white light. I longed to stay in the light and as soon as that thought entered my head, it was as though I was slammed back into my body.
My friend and the teacher led me down to the sitting room where all the students were to share their experiences. Anyone who knows me at all would be shocked to hear me report that I was speechless. I was absolutely without words to express what had happened. As others shared their stories, I sat in a dumbfounded state, unsure of what had just occurred upstairs. When it was my turn, I shared my story in a halted stutter.
The gifts of that day were endless. I have no fear of death. I believe with all my being that there is something else after this. There is a place we go where we become love. I do not believe there is a judgement day.
When I read the stories of other people’s near-death experiences, I believe. I do not argue with the skeptics because they cannot know what I know and I cannot provide the proof they need to believe. What I do know is that all of my irrational fears left that day and I have found peace in life experiences that have broken others.
In love and light,