A BIRD'S TRANSITION INTO THE AFTERLIFE

Last year, in July 2010, I had spent a little over a week visiting with Bruce and his wife at their home in Florida. I hadn't wanted to come home. It was so hard to say bye to Bruce. I could tell he didn't want to cry, so he just hugged me, gave me a kiss, said bye, and walked back to the car. I was in tears. I'm such a big softy. No, big baby is more like it. I can't stand saying goodbye.

So upon returning home I was a bit out of it, I guess you could say. My focus of awareness was so focused there, at Bruce's house, that returning home felt like I was walking in a dream. I had even had a brief out-of-body experience on my last morning there....I had awoken early and went back to sleep, taking the opportunity to imagine myself getting out of bed and walking throughout the house. It's my easy trick for inducing a quick OBE. Immediately I was completely "out" and found myself in their living room. I thought, I wonder where Bruce is, and immediately the scene changed. I was no longer in their house but instead found myself in a Japanese temple garden. The building wrapped around the garden, squarely bordering it with a low-roofed porch. Bruce was standing there in the middle of the small garden which seemed dwarfed by his tall frame. Almost unaware of my presence, he gazed---intrigued by the architectural structure---at the temple. He turned to look at me and said, "Since you're having an out-of-body experience, you should use this opportunity to experiment. Why don't you go to the kitchen in my house and look at the phone. You can try to read the time on the display." Because of his suggestion my attention immediately obeyed, and I found myself standing in his kitchen looking toward the phone. I awoke then.

Upon returning home that night I had another brief OBE. Something had awoken me and at first I believed I was physically awake. I got out of bed with urgency and amnesia. I didn't recognize where I was. I stood at my bedroom window and looked out onto my backyard. I could see clearly, recognized my yard, but didn't believe I was actually there. "I'm not home, I'm still at Bruce's house. How can I be here?" My awareness and energy were still so much fully focused at Bruce's house that it felt so unreal to be anywhere else. I turned to look into my bedroom, which I could also see clearly in the dark. I recognized it as my room but still did not feel I was actually there. I was so confused that I crawled back into bed and went back to sleep. When I got up in the morning I realized it had been an OBE and was the reason I was able to see so clearly in the dark without my glasses on. It's one of the tale-tell signs for me, although at the time of an OBE or any waking physical reality nonphysical experience, I forget to realize that my normal physical senses aren't as acute as those of nonphysical perception.

A good example of what I mean is what happened next, the next morning. It was a Sunday morning, less than 48 hours after returning from Bruce's house, with my awareness STILL so completely focused on not wanting to leave Bruce, that I was still in a sort of dreamy daze. It was 5:30 a.m., dark, and I was on my way to work. Suddenly, something came flying toward my windshield. A big blackbird. I hit the brakes but it was too late. The bird whacked into my windshield so hard it made a loud, cringe-causing, sound. Immediately the bird walloped onto the roof of my car and I looked into the rear-view and then the side-view mirror to see anything. I felt so bad about colliding with the bird and hoped, despite that awful sound, that it was ok. Fortunately I saw him roll off the roof from the right side of the car and land on his feet in the grass. He did this funny little shaky-dance thing, like some cartoon character would have. He shook his entire body as if to shake-off the "willies" of a near-death experience. I smiled.

I was so relieved the little guy was going to be all right.

I drove to work, worked my 10.25 hour shift, and upon coming back out to the parking lot that evening found a horrible sight. There was something on the roof of my car, wedged under the luggage rack. I had to open my car door and step onto the inside frame in order to be tall enough to see the roof, and there was the black bird, dead. For a few moments I was so confused. How could that be? After hitting my windshield and bouncing onto the roof, the bird had fallen off the car and into the grass. I saw it! Could it have been a different bird that had instead stood there in the grass? It didn't seem reasonable. I knew what I had seen, saw the poor little guy flip head over tail over the edge of the top of my car, saw him do his funny little dance, and saw the expression on his face which said, "Whoa, that was close!"

Then it dawned on me. How could I have had such great eyesight in the dark, while driving about 40 miles per hour, and see the expression on a bird's face in the passenger side-view mirror? How could I have even known what he was thinking?

Taking a plastic grocery bag from my car, I used it to pry the bird from the roof, wrapped him in the bag, and placed it on the floor of my car. As I drove home I cried. I replayed that morning's events in my mind, checked the passenger side-view as I drove, and realized there was no normal way I could have "physically" seen what I had. It must have been with a nonphysical sense of vision that I had seen the dead bird appear to still be alive, appear shaken from the accident, and appear relieved that he was still "alive".

The bird's transition into the afterlife had been so abrupt that he was unaware of it. To him, nothing had changed. He was still alive. That quick transition also meant he had died instantly. Thank God.

It's amazing that the nonphysical senses can kick in so easily without detection. It makes me think we probably experience seeing nonphysical things all the time without even realizing it. We just take it for granted that everything in our experience is physical.