The Days After..

What happens after an experience like this? How can a soul return to the ordinary world of human beings? How does one adjust?

As part of this testament to the experience and its impact, it has long been my intent to document what happened afterwards.

It is not easy to do so.

At first I knew I had to tell someone. Yet language often fails us as human beings. It was  impossible for me to imagine the joy of being touched by that Light, let alone hope to articulate it to someone who hadn't the experience. Attempting to articulate the experience is sure to evoke powerful emotions in the teller, and quite possibly the listener too. Much of this world is not ready for heaven yet : any claim to the divine within humanity is going to challenge much of the world's status-quo.

Blaise Pascal, the famous French mathematician and theologian (1623-62) appears to have never told anyone of his own mystical experience. After his death there was found stitched into his clothes a rough drawing of a flaming cross and this record of his experience:

In the year of grace 1654 Monday, 23 November, the day of St Clement, Pope and Martyr, and others in the Martyrology;
the eve of St Chrysogonus, Martyr, and others;
from about half-past ten in the evening till about half an hour after midnight
FIRE
God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob.
Not of the philosophers and the learned.
Certitude. Joy. Certitude. Emotion. Sight. Joy.
Forgetfulness of the world and of all outside God.
The world hath not known thee, but I have known Thee.
Joy! Joy! Joy! Tears of Joy.
My God, wilt Thou leave me?
Let me not be separated from Thee for ever.

Except from An Illustrated Encyclopaedia of Mysticism and the Mystery Religions by John Ferguson


Before telling anyone I always asked my higher self several questions.

Will this soul be served and empowered by my telling?
Might telling my story leave the listener less afraid of death, of the unknown, of themselves?
Will my sharing encourage them on their search for meaning within themselves?

Over time I decided to tell several of the wisest people I knew.

Thirty six hours after the experience (of the Light) I decided to telephone my parents.

I didn't know where to begin. I knew just what had happened, but it would take a long time to explain and I didn't wish to overwhelm them.

"Where to begin?" I wondered.
"Begin conservatively," came the inner answer.
"I think that I may have had some sort of mystical experience," I told them.
"Understatement of the century," came the inner retort.

There was silence on the line.

I went on for a few minutes to explain a little about the weeks on the path; the final encounter with the Light; and the return.

There was silence on the other end.

"Wonderful. They are listening," I thought. "But I had better take a break here and give them a chance to respond."

Mother: "What drugs have you been taking?"
Phillip: "How can you say that? I have never been interested in drugs. Don't you know your own son?"

There was a pause.

Mother: "Who have you been speaking to?"
Phillip: "No-one. Do you doubt my capacity for independent thought? Do you doubt our capacity to find truth for ourselves?"

Silence. It was clear she couldn't see where I was coming from at all.

Father : "This (long distance) call must be costing you a lot."
Phillip: "But this is important. If my money means anything, it is to spend on this."

Another pause, this one incredibly uncomfortable.

Parents: "We had really better go now. There are jobs around the house we have to do."
There was no hiding their intent from me. They had just told me as honestly as they were capable they were afraid and didn't even want to know.
 
I was stunned. The conversation had gone a much worse than I ever imagined. Yet I longed to put some of what I had received into a form they could understand.
 
I took a deep breath and began.
 
"I love you. I forgive you for everything. Know that everything that happened in the past was perfect. It was just as it should have been. I am grateful for everything."
"And whatever happens to me, or may appear to happen to me, do not worry. I am held in the greatest of hands."
 
We hung up soon after. I was in shock. Once I had imagined us all walking the same path. But my parents - the two wisest and most philosophical people I knew  - didn't want to explore and hear of the real meaning of human existence.
 
Some weeks later there was a letter from my father. He had never written me a letter before. The contents confirmed what I had already knew:

"About that spiritual experience you spoke of...I just want to make something absolutely clear : I never want to hear about it again as long as I live."
 
How could one grow out of the very best of a man and a woman, go so far into the infinite and the certainty of eternal life - to a healing, a joy, freedom and love unbounded, then come back deliberately into human form to share it, speaking their own language, and in the form of their son, and still they didn't even want to know?
 
It was then that the first doubts emerged in my mind about the worth of the 'experience' in the world.
 
Eight months later I told another highly intelligent and sensitive friend.

"But of course science can explain that now," she said, as though that was all there is to it.
"But didn't you know?" she said, noticing the perplexed look on my face.
"When the brain gets close to death, it is starved of oxygen...and a brain starved of oxygen forms the mental image of a light.."

By then part of me was beginning to wish it was all that simple.

 
The most wonderful, complete and human response I had was from my ex-girlfriend, when I saw her a year after in Germany. I urgently wanted to see her, but not because I wanted to rekindle a relationship with her. I was quite concerned about her, knowing she must feel guilt about the abrupt way she had ended our relationship. It was very clear one of the most important things I could do in the world was give her the message that she was forgiven; that she was loved without conditions, and that I never wished her to suffer at my expense.
 
She was clearly relieved to hear this. Then I told her a five or ten minute version of what had happened.
 
"Wow," she replied with a huge grin. "How about an ice-cream? And then a beer?"


Later she asked if there was a possibility of us getting back together. I was touched by this, but at the same time I knew it was not quite right. I thought for a moment, before putting my intuition to her.

"Niki, I love you. And given my interest in human nature I have often thought about you and what drives you."

"I have to come to the conclusion that what you want more than anything else is to be loved by a single human being, preferably a man, but that is also what you are more afraid of than anything else."

She looked me in the eye with her answer: "Yes."

I was very grateful for her honesty. Finally I had confirmation that my knowledge of human nature was valid beyond myself, and finally there was a human being capable of admitting their frailty. I was filled with joy in being able to love another soul for that frailty, just as I knew I was loved.

"We have been close today I think, as close as we have ever been. But perhaps part of that is because you know I am going soon. I suspect that if we got back together in a relationship the same thing would happen again. We would become close, and then you would suddenly end it, without even really understanding why. Am I right?"

"Yes," she said.

"I think you have to grow a bit more in understanding of yourself before you get the relationship you really want. And I think I deserve better than such an on again/off again relationship too."

"Yes," she said.

"As much as I love you, and care about you, I don't think it is right that we get back together."

And so after a day of very healing hugs we let each other go.

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