A Direct Experience part two of Walking Through Walls

From some far-off and distant place, I sensed someone said, “Have John come over.”  I could not feel the ground where I was lying, I could not feel my body, I could not hear.  I

was aware of light. Warm, yellow light. I was part of the light, but separated in some way. There was a brighter, more enveloping light ahead of me that drew me as if it was a magnet and I was composed of magnetic filings.  There was no thought. There were no words. There was knowing.  This part sounds verifiably crazy. I have not ever discussed this experience.  The light of which I was a part was universal, infinite and all-consuming. All cares ceased.  This place was a place of love. It heralded peace, it was peace. In my understanding of this place, I was one with God. I was also one with all the spirits of all the souls who did not inhabit bodies.  While I was there, I was filled with a joy like I had never known. I resisted returning to my body, which I could see beneath me, far below on the ground. However, my instructions - or my understanding, since words did not have meaning and communication was in a language of light - were to return and carry the message. Of love, of light, of hope.  It was more than a message, it was more than a commandment.  In a realm of knowingness and light, everything was clear.  There were no ripples upon the pond of perfection. With a profound sense of sorrow, I felt pulled back, as if by gravity, into consciousness of my body and into my life.

John, the leader of the Leadership Intensive Workshop, was beside me, holding my hand, taking the pulse in my wrist. He was murmuring softly to me, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Gradually, like fog lifting, I was oriented and John was saying, “You gave us quite a scare there, Dawn. Where have you been?” My eyes welled up because I had left behind all of that glory. My eyes welled up because I didn’t know how, couldn’t imagine how, to explain what had happened. I felt a loss like no other. I had been present with those who had gone on before me and, once again, I lost them. I did not recognize them by shape or form, but by spirit. It was a profound diminishment to return to my very human form, full of its foibles and frailties and uncertainty. I had been witness to perfection and had communed with God.

My time at the Leadership Intensive changed me. I do not know if I was the only one to have had a direct experience of God.  John told me I was special. He quoted Matthew 22:14 of the Bible, "Many are called, few are chosen." He told me that somehow, while meditating, my respiration dropped to five per minute, my pulse was down to sixteen.  Since respiration of somewhere around 16 and a pulse of 72 is considered “normal,” something took place during my meditation. John Thompson told me that the workshop was designed to maximize the opportunity for participants to have a deep and meaningful experience. We were seated crossed-legged on the floor. Each of us had a moat of pillows surrounding us. In my case, the pillows prevented a head injury when I toppled over.  After that initial experience, I was able to have brief glimpses of that gloryful light during subsequent sessions.  Never for as long, never for as an intense period. My knowledge that there is an omnipresent and omnipotent power was forever fixed. 

In the twenty-seven years since that time, I have kept virtually silent about my direct experience of God.  It has been a deeply personal and private knowledge that has been a gift.  Two things precipitated my willingness to speak at this point.

Last summer, after my second hip replacement, things went awry.  There were about six hours that I was in the most intense pain of my life. Childbirth was a distant second.

At a time that I felt most cut off and alone, when I was out of my head with agonizing, intolerable pain, I found myself back, bathed in that light.  It was a joyful reunion with God and all the many people whom I have loved and who have died.  I was conscious of both worlds simultaneously.  When I left the encompassing light of God again, I understood I was to carry the message of love, of light, of hope to others.  

Anita Moorjani is a writer who delivered a salient, succinct and inspiring account of a near-death experience she had in 2006.  She was declared hours away from her death by her doctors.  After surviving what was deemed her death, Anita returned to  describe a much more elaborate and detailed account than mine in which she was healed from terminal cancer overnight.  It was her delivery of this account to Wayne Dwyer’s PBS audience in May, 2012 that served as the final catalyst for me to talk about my direct experiences of God.  Wherever, however and whoever faces a healing energy so vast and unimaginable that their lives are inarguably altered must speak up. This brings to mind  one of my favorite childhood church songs; This Little Light of Mine. My favorite verses tell it all. 

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel, no! I'm gonna let it shine
Hide it under a bushel, no! I'm gonna let it shine
Hide it under a bushel, no! I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

My direct experience of God is my light. I intend to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.