Dying To Really Live

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Dying to Really Live

The first book of a trilogy chronicling the
real life and death experiences of Duane F. Smith
Volume I
Copyright 2014, Duane F. Smith

All right reserved
Duane F. Smith
Foreword
This book is the first of a trilogy of books about my original

NDE and the five times my Soul Guides returned me to the
Afterlife for further instruction. It is the story of what I saw,
learned and did, during and between those six trips. It also is about
my struggle to learn the art of Inner Guidance, enabling me to do
finally what I was sent back to accomplish.
This first volume, Dying to Really Live, tells of the events
leading up to my original NDE and what it was like to die. It is the
story of those I met the first time I went to the Afterlife and what
happened while I was there. It is also the story of my why I was
reluctance to return to this life, as well as why I finally did. And
how, at first, what I found here, was a bit like the paraphrase of an
old, post WW I song,
How ya gonna keepem down on the farm,
once theyve seen gay Paree.
However, once I did begin to internalize something I learned
over there, things quickly got better. What I learned was that,
Heaven and Hell arent places; they are a state of mind, and what
we experience is a choice, in this life or afterward.
Since the first volume covers universal principles of life and
death that should be free to all, Im being told to give the first book
away, to anyone interested, allowing the reader to decide if the
trilogy is for them, or not, before buying the other two Volumes.
Volume II, Beyond Death and Back, available immediately
after Volume I, is the continuing story of what I experienced, and
learned, during the five times my soul guides took me back to the
Afterlife, in the two years following my original Death.
Volume III of the Trilogy, Living in a New Tomorrow will be
available following the publication of Volume II and is about one
of my last major learning assignment, to write of a what is ahead

for humans in a few areas, such as:
How a small change in our schools will empower

every child to reach his or her God-given potential.
If God Lives within us all, what is the purpose of

allowing our body to suffer sickness?
How individual mastery of Inner Guidance is the key

to happiness, and whats ahead.
How Gods perfect plan of creation will bring the

return of the Edenic Millennium to earth far sooner
than most think possible
How a Great Soul Divide ahead will be different than

organized Religions, believe.
How we can achieve Heaven on earth as we wait for

the unfolding of Gods perfect plan.
By Duane F. Smith.
To follow the future writings of the Author or to follow his blog,
Go to the Authors Website, http://www.DuaneFSmith.org
Contents
CHAPTER 1................................................................ 9
FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE
CHAPTER 2 .............................................................. 13
THE EARLY YEARS
CHAPTER 3 .............................................................. 18
MY EARLY LIFE CHANGES
CHAPTER 4 ..............................................................22
GIVING UP ON LIFE
CHAPTER 5 ............................................................. 26
A LIFE CHANGING COINCIDENCE
CHAPTER 6 ..............................................................32
WAITING TO DIE
CHAPTER 7 ............................................................. 34
DJ VU OR SOMETHING ELSE
CHAPTER 8 ............................................................. 39
MY LIFE CHANGES AGAIN
CHAPTER 9 ..............................................................45
THE 4 HORSEMEN COMETH
CHAPTER 10 ............................................................ 51
LEARNING TRUE GRIEF
ABOUT VOLUME II ................................................. 58
ABOUT THE AUTHOR ............................................. 60
A SPECIAL ACKNOWLEDGMENT ........................... 64
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Chapter
1
FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE

The world is a fine place and I would hate,
very much, to leave it.
Ernest Hemingway
In my late 30s, my life took an unexpected turn. Just when it
seemed to be coming together as planned, something seemed
vaguely off key. It was nothing I could put a finger on, just a vague
feeling that I had missed a turn somewhere. Then, over the next
year or so, I slowly entered what St. John of Cross, a Carmelite of
the 16th Century, referred to as The Night of the Soul. Later, I
would realize this was the beginning of a new phase in my life.
At the time, my business and professional life had progressed
to the point where my wife and I could afford what we thought, at
the time at least were the things for which we had dreamed,
worked, and planned. These were all the things we assumed, and
society had taught us, would bring us happiness. Early in my life, I
had watched people who had money and nice things and decided I
wanted to be rich. I assumed that people with boats, cars, airplanes
and all of lifes toys had to be happy, right? So when I was young,
9
FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE

when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, Id
always replied a millionaire.
Now, our wonderful little family consisted of two pre-teen
daughters, around whom our lives revolved, the family dog, and
independent cat. We were happily ensconced in a beautiful old
Cape Cod, our home in the idyllic Shakespeare mecca of Ashland,
Oregon. In our garage were the requisite his and her Mercedes.
Mine was a sedan and hers a sports model purchased for her last
birthday. Out at the airport were two airplanes just looking for
ways to prove their worth to the family, one for local flying and
one for long distance. With a posh ski area just a few miles outside
of town and sailboat for the lake, we seemingly had it all. I had to
be happy, right?
It was icing on the cake that my other family, kids from the
experimental program where I taught school after getting out of the
Army, were mostly doing well also. The program had been for kids
who struggled with school and often had challenges at home. For
quite a few of the students, our classroom had become somewhat
of a surrogate family, and many had stayed in touch. Even the most
broken of the bunch, a little girl named Teresa, seemed to be on
her way to getting her life figured out. As I looked at my life, I
seemed to have it all, and what I didnt have was within easy
reach.
Early in my life, I had discovered the power of goal setting
and in my late 30s I had achieved almost all of my lifes goals
yes, even the millionaire part, several times over. We had been
building bigger houses and took longer and more extravagant
vacations. For several years now, I had felt we were just one step
away from happiness; just one more something and wed finally
be there, wed be satisfied and happy ready to really enjoy life.
All the same, even the last six-week family vacation in
Europe, although perfect, still hadnt scratched the itch I always
felt. Now, I began to suspect that the next bigger and better
something wasnt going to do it either. And, of course, it never
did. In fact, what made it worse was the growing realization that I
10
DYING TO REALLY LIVE

really didnt have any idea what real happiness was, or how or
where to find it. I had come to realize that happiness was more
than another new boat or bigger, faster airplane, or longer vacation
somewhere. Then, when my wife began talking about how our next
new house needed to be smaller to be perfect, I knew she was
sensing the same unspoken frustrations as I was.
About this time, to make matters even worse, something that
had started out as a minor health annoyance took a turn for the
worse. Fortunately, a doctor from The Stanford Medical Center in
California took on my case. After a thorough examination, he
seemed optimistic. He said they were developing a new operation
and it was going to be the breakthrough they were seeking in the
treatment of my apparently untreatable condition. Furthermore, he
said they were about to do another test-case operation and thought
I might be an excellent candidate for the new procedure. While
characterized as major surgery, it could offer significant relief if all
went well. And if it didnt work, my prognosis wasnt good
anyway. To my wife and me, there was no question of our decision
because, without the surgery, where would I be?
More testing began and I was poked and prodded everywhere
and relieved of bodily fluids I didnt know I had. In spite of what
the doctors had said, once all the tests were completed, it seemed
the prognosis wasnt so bright after all. The doctors, as a group,
felt that my condition had already deteriorated too far to survive
the operation.
Furthermore, even if I were willing to risk the new procedure,
no doctor wanted to operate on a man who they felt might just die
on the operating table. Clearly, though they didn't admit it, they
didnt want to jeopardize their whole program, and new
experimental procedure, by having one of their first with the
patient dying in the process.
Their advice to us was go home and get my affairs in order as
I had, at the most, only five months to live. I was only 41, and
someway it really didnt sink in at first. We knew we had hit a
rough patch of sailing in our life, but we didnt really realize what
11
FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE

was ahead.
So, I suppose that was why their verdict had less impact on me
than I would have expected. Maybe it was because of the bonenumbing fatigue I was feeling, after months of little or no sleep.
Maybe it was because, in some vague way, the fatigue aligned with
other feelings I was having. While I wasnt actually ready to give
up, even before I realized I was in trouble, I had been wondering if
what we had was all there was to life?
But, as time went on, I did begin to give up. I remember
thinking that a thousand years from now, it wouldnt matter
anyway; dead is dead. Then, I gradually became used these new
feelings. Partly, perhaps, because the detached feeling of being so
very tired made life seem devoid of meaning. It was as if part of
me was dead already, but I was still walking around. So the days
went on, and death became more inviting all the while.
12
Chapter
2
THE EARLY YEARS

There is no place so magical as
this world to a small child
Born on a farm along the banks of Williams Creek in rural
southern Oregon, I lived for the first six years of my life in a small,
white house happily nestled under spreading oak and willow trees.
We had a small farm halfway between two general stores in the
wee hamlet of Williams, Oregon. Across the main road from our
house was a small sawmill where my dad and granddad, along with
10 or 12 hired men, cut lumber for the war effort. In those days, if
you owned a mill you also owned the timber, did the logging and
hauled the logs to the mill. After cutting the logs into lumber, you
hauled it to the railhead for shipment to some Army Depot.
Until I was six, the farm and sawmill were my playgrounds
and the universe, as I was amazingly free to roam them at will.
When the war was over, we sold the mill and moved to a ranch not
far away.
My earliest memories are of waking up in my attic bedroom
above the kitchen as the cozy smells of bacon, eggs, and pancakes
came wafting up the narrow stairway. Then, the sounds of my
granddads booming laughter would rattle through the house as he
and my father came into the kitchen from the barn. Each morning
before breakfast, they milked and fed the cows and harnessed the
two teams of horses, used later at the mill.
I would descend the stairs wiping the sleep from my eyes,
where my granddad and best pal, Amos, would scoop me up and
hoist me to his shoulders. He wasnt actually my granddad. He was
my dads uncle who raised Dad, but he was my favorite
13
THE EARLY YEARS

granddad.
Overall, as a child I was lucky to have two loving grandfathers
in my life. Amos, a big-hearted man whose laughter was
infectious, always dressed in clean bib overalls, except when he
went to church, which wasnt often. He was a natural magnet for
kids and dogs everywhere he went, a regular Pied Piper. He was a
larger-than-life person in a small community and I adored him. He
also seemed to have a special affection for me, maybe because he
had no children.
Amos had a large impact on my world and helped shape the
person I became as well as the values I embraced. He was someone
who paid little attention to money, but seemed to have a natural
ability to make it by the wheelbarrow load and gave it away as fast
as he made it.
In retrospect, my other granddad, on my mothers side, was
one of the oldest souls I ever met. If he wasnt a real, honest-togoodness saint, he didnt miss by much. With his bemused,
enigmatic smile always playing across his face, it seemed
impossible for him to see, or believe, any bad in any person or
situation. Only much later did I come to realize what he already
knew before I was born, what would take me 40 years, and a Near
Death Experience, to begin to parse apart.
Later, I realized these two men were part of, almost, a magical
force at work in my life the first of a number of elderly men who
were always in my life, at the right place and the right time. At that
tender age, I had no way of understanding how lucky I was to have
two such grandfathers living around me as I grew up.
My memories of those early mornings were always about the
same. I would eat my breakfast with my dad and granddad as Mom
plied us with course after course, fresh each morning, while my
dad and granddad were out tending the livestock. She saw it as her
duty to ensure that her family wouldnt face the day on an empty
stomach. There was always plenty of fresh-squeezed juice, real
oatmeal, pancakes, ham or steak, eggs, biscuits and toast, topped
off with something baked, maybe a cinnamon roll or coffee cake,
14

and plenty of milk fresh from the barn, with a cream line partway
down the pitcher. That was the way breakfast was in those days. It
had to be substantial in the days before machinery replaced muscle
power. Men consumed piles of food when it was available, and
you rarely saw anyone overweight.
The time-period was in the mid-1940s, during World War II,
in an era when men did hard physical labor 10 to 12 hours a day.
Having three hearty meals was just a normal part of the day. My
mother saw it as her part of the daily workload to prepare, from
scratch, three full meals with all the requisite baking. In addition, if
she needed a chicken for dinner, she would catch and kill it, and
then scald it in boiling water to pluck its feathers before cutting it
up in frying sized pieces so that we could have fried chicken for
dinner. Often, mother would milk the cows when dad had to be at
the mill or in the woods.
In his later life, my father never understood why people joined
health clubs to work out, being from a generation when men did
eight to ten hours of demanding physical work, and then had
several hours of chores at the barn when they got home.
After breakfast, my dad and granddad would follow the path
across the field and climb the stile straddling the fence alongside
the highway. Across the highway, the path led to a log pond where
it became a series of chained-together floating logs hewn flat as a
walking surface. Once on the other side, they entered the mill and
began the second part of their day.
Back at the house, I would finish my breakfast and then get
dressed and hurry after them, following along the path they had
taken over the stile, across the road, and to the log pond. Here, I
would pick up the little pike-pole one of the men had cut off for me
and cross the log bridge. When I arrived at the mill, I would
usually go underneath it where my Uncle Harry already had a
roaring fire going in the steam boiler. He was getting up a head of
steam as we called it, so that at 8:00 he could blow the whistle
and start the steam engine, which drove the saws and moved the
log carriage back and forth across the saw blade.
15
THE EARLY YEARS

In that era, if something moved, it took horse or man-power to
do it. If they wanted a log rolled over or a piece of lumber moved,
it was done by the muscle power of either a man or a horse. The
steam engine, which seemed as large as a locomotive to a five-year
old boy, but was the only source of power in the mill, other than
muscle power. While there were a few electric light bulbs in our
home, at first, there wasnt even an electrical line to the mill. But
when more lumber was needed near the end of World War II,
Uncle Harry rigged a single-light bulb over the Sawyers station so
that we could see before full daylight or as the light faded at night.
This way, the mill could operate a few more hours each day, doing
its part in the war effort.
The underbelly of the mill fascinated me. I wanted to know
what made it all work. But, after a while of watching and asking
Uncle Harry all the questions I could think of, I would go on to
other parts of the mill, driven by an insatiable boys curiosity.
For the rest of the day, I usually had free run of most of the
mill and mill yard, though certain places were absolutely offlimits. I was never to go near the burning sawdust piles and was
amply supplied with stories of young children falling into their
smoldering craters of burning sawdust.
Later, as an adult, I question whether I would have allowed a
son of mine such freedom at such a young age. I questioned for a
while whether my parents had been negligent or not. It was only
later that I realized my parents werent negligent; I had probably
just fallen in the crack between Moms world and Dads at first
anyway.
Mom sent me off to the mill to go to my Dad, assuming he
would keep an eye on me, which he probably did. Then,
sometimes, he would send me back to the house. But sometimes I
would stop and see Amos along the way. As time went by, Mom
probably thought I was with Dad and Dad would think I was with
Mom. After a while, they decided, since I hadnt been killed yet, I
must be fairly safe. Soon, I was free all day long.
Now, as I look back, it is easy to believe something or
16

someone was watching over me. I had been given so much
freedom, at a young age, in what was a potentially dangerous
place. However, I believe it was with this freedom that I learned to
get myself out of the little jams and troubles I managed to get
myself into later.
I suppose its like the way the few remaining Native American
families would fireproof their babies. As infants, their babies were
allowed to crawl unprotected around a fire. At first, they were safe
because they couldnt move much. As they became slightly more
mobile and were able to inch slowly toward the flame, they
naturally learned that it becomes uncomfortably warm at some
point, and so they stopped. In time, they become more mobile and
braver. Inevitably, they occasionally got a red spot or even a small
blister here or there. But eventually in small, age-appropriate doses
they fireproof themselves. The children who get into trouble are
those who are hovered over, or are overly protected around fires
and not allowed to experiment or play with it.
Because of my freedom to roam, I developed confidence in
my own abilities and a healthy dose of self-respect for life, which
was to carry me through the spirit-crushing experiences in store for
me as my dyslexic tendencies came to the surface.
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17
Chapter
3

On every life a little rain must fall
I entered school on top of the world, eager to learn to read. In
an era before teachers knew of dyslexia, my natural confidence and
verbal abilities carried me well until fifth grade. My teachers
seemed to accept me and my odd style of writing. I had developed
a method of printing because cursive writing was impossible for
me. My fingers just wouldnt cooperate. I did my homework as
required, and usually received As or Bs in most subjects.
Nevertheless, in the fifth grade, my charmed world came crashing
down around me. Here, I met a teacher who was a real life changer
in a negative way, or so it seemed at the time.
I remember her as a self-righteous, frustrated woman who
thought the way to motivate children, little boys in particular, was
to shame them into better performance. Her way of inspiring and
motivating me was to hold up my struggling attempts at writing in
front of the whole class, ridicule it, and then post it on a special
bulletin board for all to examine as an example of what she didnt
want. If her efforts created a negative reaction, the pressure was
only increased.
Her favorite punishment was detention sentences for work
not meeting her standards, and mine never did, try as I might. As
a punishment, she would write a sentence consisting of 30 to 35
words in length on the blackboard, tailored to admonish me for the
error of my ways and sloppy penmanship. (Penmanship loomedlarge in her mind, and with no messy printing allowed!) For the
first offense, she would have me copy, in longhand, 100 of these
sentences, all to be written during my recesses or noontime. For a
young boy of 10, who struggled to shape each letter individually,
18

one at a time, the punishment of a hundred such sentences, seemed
like capital punishment. In addition, any sentences not completed
the first day carried over to the recesses of the next. Sometimes she
would reject the whole assignment if she thought my penmanship
looked like I wasnt trying hard enough.
By the time I completed the first 100 sentences, I usually had
earned another 200 or 300 sentences. The magical life I had
experienced until then began to turn gray and dark. But, the worst
of it was that it all seemed to be my fault. Maybe I wasnt trying
hard enough or maybe I was lazy. My older sister had been in her
class a few years earlier and received straight As. One thing I
heard too much of was why cant you be like your sister? Youre
capable, you just arent trying hard enough; you dont care.
To make matters worse, often I would grasp an assigned
problem and figure out my own way to the answer, only to be
accused of copying the answer from someone else, because I
hadnt done it the way the teacher thought it was supposed to be
done. When reports from my teacher came home of my not
applying myself and saying that I was copying the work of others,
I began to question myself, to think maybe it was all my fault.
Maybe I wasnt working hard enough and I began to question why
I couldnt do things right; I begin to wonder what was wrong
with me.
For a while, I would start each day determined to try harder
and work harder. However, try as I might, I just couldnt make the
letters on the paper come out right or in their proper order, and
often I couldnt come to the right answer, in the same way other
kids did. And, my right answer would cause me further grief when
I couldnt always articulate the often circuitous way in which I
arrived at my answer. To make matters worse, by the time I had
struggled over the paper for hours, it was smudged, messy, and
many times ripped from the erasing. Often, I couldnt even read
my own writing, no matter how hard I tried or how determined I
was to do better. Slowly, I began to give up.
Whatever the cause, as I gave up to the shame and anger, it all
19

turned into resistance, and then rebellion. By the sixth grade, I no
longer even did classroom work unless the teacher stood over me
and forced it. Homework was out of the question.
Looking back on it now from a metaphysical viewpoint, what
happened to me at the time was perfect, considering what it would
head me toward, later. However, I certainly could not see it at the
time. While this teacher triggered my anger and rebellion, she also
sent me in the direction necessary to have the experiences for
which I had come to this planet.
While writing, grammar, and spelling were nearly impossible
for me, reading came easily. Because of my good verbal skills and
reading ability, I was carried on through the grades into high
school. In high school, the results of my written work were much
the same. Classes that required writing continued to be extremely
frustrating. Math, science, and physics were easy for me, but I still
had trouble seeing how others got the same answers that I did.
However, I would usually receive As and Bs for my work in those
classes, if the teacher wasnt big on homework. However, my
attitude problem carried over and I refused to do anything outside
of the classroom. If I couldnt do it during class time, I didnt do it.
Somehow, I was able to graduate on time, albeit in the bottom
third of my class. Moreover, since I came from a family of Scotch
and Irish forefathers who were either hellfire and brimstone
preachers or schoolteachers, there was no doubt that I would go to
college. That concept was so thoroughly ingrained in my
upbringing that I really didnt even question the idea.
Nonetheless, after a short stint in college, my inability to write
and study, along with my partying, finally caught up with me and
when the dean asked me to leave for the second time, I knew
something had to change. By now, my father also realized the
futility of attempting to have me reinstated, yet again, and quietly
said, Son, I think you better go into the Army and grow up. Little
did he know at the time that what he said was received with a sense
of relief and would lead me to exactly where I needed to be for the
next of a series of life lessons, setting a pattern that would be
20

repeated over and over in my life.
The Army appealed to my sense of adventure, so I agreed to
Join the Army and See the World, as was the recruiting slogan at
that time. However, I left college for the Army feeling like I had a
big D for Dumb branded across my forehead; feeling like
maybe I was the dumbest person in the world. I guess I knew
innately that I wasnt actually that dumb, but I had no idea how to
do some things the way others did and my self-esteem had been
beaten down and was about as low as it could go. But, looking
back on it, I can say that I hadnt lost my fighting spirit; that would
come later in life.
21
Chapter
4
GIVING UP ON LIFE
Sometimes a person can be lost in the deluge
To my wife, as I lost my interest in life, my changing attitude
felt like abandonment. Of course, it is easy to see why she would
feel that way. Nonetheless, I was unsure what to do about it. She
felt we should be fighting harder somehow, but I didnt know how
to do that. We were already in the hands of the best medical team,
working on the cutting edge of this recently discovered new field
of medicine. Moreover, they were in contact with similar medical
teams all over the world. Who were we supposed to go to? Perhaps
some rumored South American healer or witch doctor? The only
consolation I had was that she and the girls would be in good
financial condition.
Over the years, I had morphed from building student
apartments to commercial office buildings, which were all on longterm leases. They were easy to manage and my attorney would
handle whatever my wife couldnt or didnt want to deal with.
Always a bright woman, she had actually become very
knowledgeable of the business from managing our student
apartments. Strangely, I kept thinking she might be better off
without me; she could then get on with her life. In spite of it all, at
some level neither of us really understood the finality of what was
happening in our lives or inside my body. I wasnt sick; I was just
tired, in a way that was hard to explain.
I was suffering from an extreme case of Central Nervous
System Sleep Apnea compounded by a second form, Obstructive
Sleep Apnea. The first form of sleep apnea occurs in only 15% of
sleep apnea cases and is akin to Crib Death in newborn infants. For
some unknown reason, at least at that time, with this type of apnea,
22

the body just forgets to breathe during deep REM sleep, a critical
part of the sleep cycle. The trachea is a bundle of muscles held
open by muscle tone. When some part of the autonomic nervous
system forgets to maintain muscle tone in the trachea, the
trachea simply collapses. Breathing through a collapsed trachea is
a little like trying to breathe through an old-fashioned paper straw
that collapses when saturated. The unknown part is the reason why
the autonomic nervous system fails to keep its muscle tone in the
trachea to begin with.
There is a second form of apnea, Obstructive Apnea, usually
caused by obstructions in the throat, which block air passage
during normal nighttime relaxing. With this form, it is obvious
what the problem is, with just a simple examination. Now, doctors
can usually relieve this type with surgery, however at the time, it
was this surgery, they were attempting to develop. But Central
Nervous System Sleep Apnea usually isnt so easy to detect during
an autopsy. Both are deadly, and I had them both.
This was in an era before medical advances brought us the
lifesaving C-Pap machine. These compact little breathing
machines save thousands of lives each year by simply putting
positive air pressure into the trachea. It works on the principle that
blowing through a collapsed paper straw is easy; however, it is
impossible to suck air through a collapsed straw.
People with sleep apnea usually develop a condition called
Pulmonary Hypertension, which is a deadly form of high bloodpressure in the circulatory system, which serves the heart and lungs
with the normal blood pressure in the rest of the body. This is why
people with sleep apnea usually die of a heart attack or stroke.
However, this is also why there are no telltale signs of their
impending fatality. I looked dead-tired, as if I might be dying to
get some sleep . . . and I was.
I spent most of my time falling asleep and trying to breathe.
Yet, there was almost an unreal quality to it all. I could be talking
with my wife at the dinner table one moment, and suddenly fall
asleep with my face landing in my plate of food. Driving was out
23
GIVING UP ON LIFE
of the question when I started wrecking cars faster than the
insurance company could, or would, repair or replace them. Being
tired from the lack of sleep is uncomfortable. Being tired from lack
of sleep over days or months is torturous. During the Korean War,
both sides used sleep deprivation as a very effective way of
breaking men down and getting them to talk. Even today, it is one
of the most powerful ways to get information from prisoners.
In some ways, I guess we kept expecting a miracle. However,
I did begin putting my affairs in order. I spent many hours in a
semi-awake state, looking back over my life, trying to understand
where I had gone wrong. How could I have all of these things,
after having accomplished all that I had, and not care particularly
whether I lived or died? Was it a lack of sleep or something else? It
was hard to say and at this point it didnt seem to make much
difference.
24
25
Chapter
5

Sometimes we think we are in control of our destiny
As with many young men who struggle in school, the Army
proved exactly what I needed. And now, looking back from a
different perspective, I can see the perfection of what led up to me
finding a place in the Army. Furthermore, the Army was where my
self-esteem began healing. And it was where I began to question
some of the false assumptions about myself and schools that I had
learned from my time in the school system.
Probably, the first morale-booster was the induction process,
and the testing done by the Army before any training began. At the
time of my enlistment, I found out that half the draftees called up
for testing fail the Armys entry-level testing. It seems half of the
draftees couldnt pass a high school equivalency test.
After three days of rigorous testing, to my surprise, I scored
reasonably well. In fact, in a few areas, I ranked in the 97
percentile. However, in one area relating to Language
Assimilation, I failed miserably, ranking in the lowest three
percent of those taking the test. Apparently, this was the same part
of the intellect, which tripped me up in school.
However, perhaps the largest boost to my morale was
something else the Army does well; that is, to get things mixed up.
For some odd reason, I found myself assigned to the University of
Maryland as a Teacher in an experimental program. It would be
years before I realized that this stroke of fate was again an
intervention by Providence, assuring I was in just the right place,
providing just the learning I needed, for the role I had chosen to
play in this incarnation.
26

The Army, in conjunction with the University of Maryland,
was experimenting with a group of draftees who had managed to
avoid school altogether. The Army drafted 350 of these men who
lacked any formal schooling and were assumed to be illiterate. They
(the Army) were interested in seeing how quickly these men could
be educated to high school equivalency. They had already attempted
a similar program on groups of high school dropouts and those who
couldnt pass the entrance tests, but that had failed miserably.
The University of Maryland had designed a program they felt
would work, where the other programs had failed, for one reason
and one reason alone. These men were interested in learning,
whereas the dropouts already knew they hated school and werent
interested in more of it. They had developed an attitude toward
school similar to mine.
It was my good fortune to be at the Army base where the
University of Maryland planned to work with one of their
experimental training groups. Then something happened that was
to shape what I thought and believed about education, and it
changed my life forever.
I had gotten to know the sergeant in charge of the University of
Marylands on-base learning center. Then, for some reason, he
asked if I would be the math instructor for 30 of the men in one of
their test groups. When I tried to tell him that I wasnt qualified, he
just said not to worry about it. But when he told me I would be
removed from the KP roster and and guard duty, I went along with
the ruse.
However, what he knew but I didnt, was that the instructor
didnt have to know the subject. The material put together for this
program would do the teaching. The instructor was only someone
to sit in the classroom and hand out the material, plus keep an eye
on the clock. For that, apparently I qualified.
The first surprise was how regular and normal these
supposedly illiterate men were. In general conversation and by all
appearances, they were just like everyone else I knew, but
apparently the Army seemed to call everyone who hadnt attended
27

school illiterate. By that definition, I didnt miss it by far. In
addition, many of historys great thinkers and leaders, including
many of the founders of our country, would have been called
illiterate.
The next thing that surprised me was how simple and logical the
material was and the way it as presented. They called the method
Programmed Learning, and the men took to it immediately. In
essence, the workbook would present a single fact or piece of data in
a sentence or two. Then the next sentence would ask them a question
about what they had just read. Whether they answered the question
correctly or not determined which line (lines were all numbered) they
went to next. If they got the answer wrong, the material was
presented in a different way. If they got the answer right, they were
presented with new information. And so it went: a fact or two and a
question, a new fact and a new question. Sometimes there was a
picture and question; sometimes a short story and a question. So they
worked their way through the material at their own individual pace,
with plenty of breaks and no pressure, in a relaxed and congenial
atmosphere.
There was little need for me to do anything, but hand out the
days workbook, occasionally show a movie, and stand there
looking wise. The key was the material and how it was presented.
The fact that I wasnt qualified to teach math didnt matter because
the subject matter wasnt dependent on me as a teacher. The
material, and its arranged was the key. It was simple and direct, and
the men loved it. Was it because these men had something I had lost
by the fifth grade? That learning was fun, exciting, and interesting.
The men didnt even want to quit at break time! But then, they
hadnt been put through this same math day after boring day. Maybe
that was why this program had little success when used on high
school dropouts.
Dropouts had resisted it from the very start. To them, it was
just more of the same old BS so they wouldnt give it a chance. As
we know, there are none so deaf as those who will not hear.
I worked with these men an hour a day, and the rest of the day
they took other high school equivalency classes. As the days
28

turned into weeks, probably what impressed me the most, was the
sheer excitement and enthusiasm they had for the material that was
rather basic.
As they went down the page or through the material, the
questions would include not only what they had just been given, but
a review of the material in the paragraph above, and sometimes
there would be a question or two on material earlier in the
presentation. The farther they went, the more comprehensive the
tests became, but it didnt seem to bother them. The magic seemed
to happen because of the immediate need to repeat information they
had just learned in the previous few minutes. Maybe that made it
easier to remember later because, in a couple of minutes, they were
asked to repeat it again. By the time they were asked to repeat it
three or four times, it seemed it was locked in their mind.
The results didnt surprise me. By the time, we reached the end of
the 90 days allotted for the class; 92% of them had passed. These men
conquered the equivalent of 12 years of math while, at the same time;
a full range of other subject materials also. They earned a high school
GED diploma, covering grade 1 through grade 12, in just 90 days.
And, that was the way they felt too, like they had conquered
something. I dont believe I have ever met a prouder bunch of GIs.
They had just slayed a large, personal dragon, in 90 days.
The men were normal in all respects: they had listened to the
news as they grew up, traveled, and been part of the workplace.
They were not illiterate as the Army had assumed. In fact, most of
the men found the material relatively easy. As these men were
assimilated into the larger part of the Army, I know they felt really
great about what they had accomplished. And, I felt really great
about my little part in their success.
During that time, I was left feeling cheated and conned. If these
men could get the equivalence of a high school education in 90 days,
it made me question the 12 years I had spent in dull, boring classes.
When I thought of what I learned in my 12 years, I didnt seem to
have anything these men didnt have, except a bad attitude and
hatred for schooling.
29

But those 90 days were pivotal in what was to come after the
Army. In addition, they did a lot to restore my belief in myself and
to shape my future attitudes toward education, for now I knew
there was a better way. Later I was to discover that this was part of
the reason for which I came to this planet.
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31
Chapter
6
WAITING TO DIE
There is a time when death comes as softly as a dove in the night,
whispering sweet things to those who wait.
At the time I got the bad news from the medical team, I had
never heard of Sleep Apnea as it was a new condition on the
medical horizon. However, they told me it had been eroding my
health for a long time, making me a prime candidate for a stroke or
heart attack.
During the first night I spent in the sleep lab, I stopped
breathing over 200 times for durations of up to 3 1/2 minutes at a
time. One can do the math. During the seven or eight-hour night it
doesnt leave much time for breathing or sleeping. Any joy in my
life was long gone and matters only got worse with time. Sleeping
in a bed was impossible. The only way I could get any sleep was
upright in a chair. My life became a gray haze of pain and
hopelessness as I waited for the end. Eventually, I came to terms
with my death, if for no other reason than the sleep it promised.
By this time, I was beginning to make peace with the fact that
this world could go on without me. I knew my wife to be tough,
resilient and a hard worker and with what we had already
accumulated, she and the girls would be fine. After a brief period
of mourning, they would get on with their lives without me. By
now, I had put my affairs in order as my doctor had advised.
Since I held no spiritual beliefs, it was easy to imagine it would all
be over soon and I could finally sleep for a long, long time. It was
amazing how appealing that thought had become.
In my more lucid times, I seemed to derive pleasure from
drifting back through old memories of earlier days when the future
32

ahead of us was bright and life seemed alive with promise. It
seemed that, looking back on my life, all the years I had been so
focused and sure of my goals, I really didnt begin to understand
what was and wasnt crucial. In fact, now as I was facing death,
most of what I thought was important now proved trifling and
insignificant.
During this time, sometimes on the edge of sleep, an odd
kaleidoscope of old memories about three seemingly unrelated
experiences kept swirling through my mind. It was like, Hey, you
need to look at these, they are important. But why, after all these
years, would these three experiences keep bubbling up and how
could they be important now? I had no idea. However, because
they were always there, just on the edge of sleep, I found myself
using them as a distraction, as an escape, and then wondering how
they could possibly be relevant to what my reality was now.
The three recurring thoughts were, (1) the 5th-grade trauma
when my education came to a screeching halt because I could not
learn the way other kids did. (2) my realization in the Army, that
education did not have to be painful after all. And, (3) my
epiphany when I later became a teacher myself and was able to test
child-directed learning with excellent results. I finally realized that
these three events were, in fact, related to one another and that
each of them had been essential for my life journey and part of the
purpose I was here to accomplish.
33
Chapter
7
We never know when true magic is afoot
It was also during my time in the Army in the sixties, 15 or 16
years after WWII, when I began to experience incidents that I later
realized were beginning cracks in my cosmic egg, and were the
beginning of my remembering who I really was and my reason for
being on this planet.
After splitting with the church of my childhood, I hadnt given
much thought to spiritual matters, at least not beyond the message
spoon-fed to kids in Sunday school. However, in Germany, I kept
having soul shaking incidents of dj vu, which left me seeking
answers to questions I had yet to formulate and would never find
answers to in the old Southern Baptist Church I had known as a
child.
While in Germany, I encountered situations that my Sunday
school teacher could never answer. Why, at six in the morning,
would a 20-year-old GI carrying all his military gear, suddenly be
crushed by waves of fear and grief by just stepping off the night
train from Bremerhaven to Frankfurt, on his second morning in
Germany? Why, later would I suddenly, without a thought, dive
for cover at the first sight of a German Army Tank, while on
NATO Maneuvers?
Why did I keep meeting German citizens 10 or 15 years my
elder who seemed very beyond familiar, and we would realize that
we both felt inextricably drawn to each other. Many times we
could barely understand the others language, but draw was there.
Moreover, why did strangers often seem to appear out of
nowhere, offering help just when I needed it most? Furthermore,
34

why did a series of seemingly random, albeit synchronous, events
keep happening to me, which now, 40 years later, define my life?
At the time, I didnt think much about these incidents. I just
relegated them to some little used part of my mind where I stored
things that really didnt make sense. It was only later, as they
began to stack up that felt compelled to consider them. Now I
realize that those people were part of a larger soul group, from an
earlier German life. But, I was far from being ready to understand
or believe such things at that time. That understanding would come
in another 25 years, when I had seen this world through a far
different lens; acquired from an after-this-current-life perspective.
Since then I have wondered what my years in Germany would
have been like, had I realized that my feelings of Dj Vu were
correct. I had been there before. However, at the time, I had no
answers.
Considerably later, it became apparent that this was all
preparation for what was ahead. It was a way to open my mind to
new information on a topic I had trivialized and thought irrelevant,
at least to life as I knew it. However, in many ways, those three
years in the Army and Europe were essential to who I was and
what was to become of me.
However, perhaps the most important of all the serendipitous
things that happened occurred after my scheduled tour in Europe
was completed. Just before my departure date, the Berlin Crisis
flare-up extended my stay in Germany by six months.
It was during this time that one Friday night another Sergeant
and I went out on the town to bury our sorrows over having our
tour of duty extended an extra six months. Late that evening, as I
was driving back to the base, my friend wanted to stop for a late
night pizza and one last beer. I tried to dissuade him as I didnt
need another beer, and wasnt hungry at the time. I just wanted to
go to bed. However, my friend wasnt to be denied, so I agreed.
Little did I realize that was a life altering decision!
While we were eating our pizza, I noticed a pair of beautiful
dark eyes from far across the room. Somewhere deep inside, I
35
knew that something was happening at that deep level. In a
moment, the girl waiting for me back home lost all her charm to a
girl I hadnt even met.
That evening I asked around and found that this girls parents
forbade her even to talk to GIs. Because of that, it took me nearly
two months to even meet her, let alone get a date with her.
However, I knew from that first night that the die was cast. Once
again, something larger than I, was at play. Had not a whole series
of events lined up in just the right order, at the right time,
everything in my life would have unfolded differently. And,
without some of the events that it all led to, my Near Death
Experience would have just been my Death, after which I would
have never returned to the life, and this book you are reading
would never have been written.
At the time, I had no way of knowing that a late night, spur-ofthe-moment decision to stop for pizza would change my life
forever, and now 50 years later, the ripple effects of that quick
decision, are still altering my life. However, since you are reading
this book, that decision made so long ago, will now alter your
future in some small way, whether you agree with its topic or not.
Let me explain.
After reading for a while, you may decide to stop and go to the
store. At this point, when you choose to stop reading seems your
choice and an arbitrary one at that. However, depending on your
whim you might or might not meet an old friend on the way. You
may talk with them for a few minutes, or longer. Either way, the
whole of the rest of your day will probably unfold differently, than
if you had stopped reading five minutes later. . . or earlier, and
missed your friend. In addition, when we accidently bump into
different people, we also change their seemingly random patterns
also, and eventually they affect everyone they meet. Some may
avoid an accident they might have been envolved in, and some
may have an accident they wouldnt have had, had they been a
minute earlier or later. And the ripple effects continue, outward,
forever.
Consider this if you will. Eventually, your seemingly
36

insignificant choice of when to stop reading affects everyone
around you. Furthermore, it is not only when you stop reading; it is
the 10,000 other little snap decisions we make every day, without
thinking or noticing. Each starts a ripple effect that eventually
come back to us. It has been said, by someone far wiser than I that
the sum of our life is the quality of all of our little decisions we all
consistently make.
We all put a great deal of thought in our major life-decisions.
However, the actual essence of our life is built on the thousand
small choices we make daily; choices that are made by our-egodriven monkey-mind, OR, from a place of quiet consideration and
inner guidance.
God created us in his image, as infinitely powerful beings who
change the world with each thought, or action. And, our choices
are the only thing we mortals do, that lasts forever. We live with
the results of our little choices for the rest of our lives and on into
eternity. One cant help but wonder what this world will be like,
when we all are operating from a conscience place of inner
guidance.
When I was in the Army in Germany, I believe that I and I
alone controlled my choices. I no longer believe that. I have come
to realize that thousands of minor synchronous coincidences every
minute of our lives shape our choices. I have come to understand
that we all are far more powerful than we realize. Every little
decision keeps on affecting us, and those around us, for years,
either positively or negatively. As my old, new age friend says,
what goes around, comes around and pats us on the back, or bites
us in the butt.
37
38
Chapter
8

To really live you must almost die Gary Cooper
Six months after finally receiving my discharge from the
Army, I went back to Germany and married that wonderful
German girl. Now, again with the hindsight of an after-life
perspective, I realize she was the reason I had gone to Germany in
the first place to meet her. Then, after a time there, we returned
stateside, settling in a small college town of Ashland, Oregon,
where I worked at various jobs and eventually decided to finish
college.
I migrated to the Psychology Department, probably in an
attempt to understand what was wrong with me that had made
grade school so difficult for me. I eventually ended up in the
Education Department. Here, classes in early childhood
development and alternate methods of learning started to shed
some light on my problems.
While in college, I started a small construction company and
began converting old houses into student apartments. By the time I
graduated, I had accumulated a number of college rentals and a
nice monthly cash flow. In addition, I was still adding extra
apartments as I could afford it. Nevertheless, the itch to teach was
growing. I began thinking of turning the day-to-day operations of
my small business over to my right hand man. I just wanted to
teach long enough to test some of my theories. So, with a diploma
in hand, I started looking for a job. Of course, once again, at that
time, I had no idea that providence was shuffling me to exactly
where a higher part of me wanted me to be. Of course, all the
while, I thought I was operating strictly on my mortal minds free
will.
39

Soon, I was a first-year teacher with a room full of fifth
graders. I immediately began implementing a rather unproven and
unorthodox bag of tricks. Out went the desks; in came worktables,
a few old sofas and rugs, as well as an ancient, but working,
refrigerator and hot plate. By Christmas, the principal had enough
of my methods and made no bones about it.
One afternoon, the principal, along with the superintendent,
paid my room an unexpected visit. As they left, the superintendent
asked me to come to his office after class. With that, I knew my
days as a teacher at that school were over.
After school, I packed up the few personal things I would take
with me, some mementos of the kids, and a few pictures and put
them in my car.
I entered the superintendents lair like a condemned man,
where his secretary eyed me as she spoke into the intercom. Then
she gestured down the hall and I took that to mean I was to walk
the last mile alone.
The superintendent met me at his office door and motioned for
me to sit in the chair in front of his desk as he took his oversized
chair behind it. He sat there and just looked at me for a few
moments as if he wasnt sure exactly how to proceed. Then he
threw me a curve ball saying, What are you going to do next
year?
Being just before Christmas, I assumed he meant in January
after he had fired me. Well, I said, I own some apartments and a
small construction company, so I will go back and build some
more apartments.
With that, he sat and looked at me some more. I wanted to say,
Come on, lets get on with this. Fire me and get it over with.
Instead, I waited and he finally said, If you could do anything
you wanted with a classroom of kids, what would you do?
I didnt know where he was going with that question, but it
didnt sound too promising. I assumed he was talking about my
unorthodox approach to teaching and wondered just how weird I
40

would get if I had the chance.
Tentatively I said, You mean with a class? He nodded, and I
jumped in. At least I would get in a few jabs on the way out the
door. My grade school memories were popping up again. I had a
lot of heat built up around the topic of teachers, schools, and how
they operated and I let the Superintendent have it with both barrels.
For the next 25 to 30 minutes, I went on about all the things I
believed kids could be doing, indeed should be doing, in school
instead of what they were doing now. There was no stopping me.
The superintendent sat through it with a bemused, enigmatic
smile as I rolled out all my guns. I had waited a long time to tell a
teacher-type person what side of the toast the butter was on, and I
was going to make the most of it. I wasnt delivering my tirade to a
teacher; I had hooked a superintendent.
He let me rant on, and when I finally stopped, he just sat there
looking at me with that damned enigmatic smile. After several
minutes, he quietly said, You got it.
Then, it was my turn to sit there. I had no idea where this
conversation had gone, but it had definitely left me behind. I got
what? I asked in surprise.
The superintendent looked at me as though he were a patient
man dealing with a slow child and said, If you come back next
year you can have a class of kids and you can do all those things.
I looked for flecks of foam around the corners of the mans
mouth. Nothing he said made any sense, as I was scrambling to get
a handle on where this conversation had gone.
I guess he could see the bewilderment on my face, so he
simply said, If you will finish this year and then come back next
fall, you can have a class of kids you can work with in any way
you want. Then he went on to say, But there is a caveat; most of
the kids you get will be ones who are bored or failing. Youll get
the three kids out of each of the fourth, fifth, and sixth-grade
classrooms. Some may be bright but bored, some will be
troublemakers, and some are just kids the teachers have given up.
41

The teachers wont care what you do with them in your class, if we
do it this way, and it will keep the principal off your back.
That afternoon, instead of getting the ax, I met a person who
would change the direction of my life once again, placing me
exactly where some higher part wanted me to be. Nevertheless, I
had no idea that what I had just signed on for, was for the rest of
my life. Or, that its influence on my life would last long after I left
teaching. Here was a man giving me a chance to prove what I
thought schools could be, instead of what they had been for me. I
now wondered if I could really help kids who struggled, as I had.
Was it really possible that most rebels and renegades were actually
just dyslexics, ADDs, and ADHDs as I now suspected? Suddenly I
wasnt so sure, now that I was faced with the reality of putting up
or shutting up. But I felt that this man was also offering to help.
What we discovered during the next five years was gratifying.
However, when a community to the north hired Henry, as I new
knew him, to start a Community College based on the same
principles we believed in, it all changed. He invited me to go with
him to help him build the college and become the Director of Adult
Education. However, it would have met uprooting my family and
taking the girls out of school. So instead I left education, stayed in
our beloved Ashland, and continued developing.
What I had no way of knowing was that my tenure working
with kids who struggled in school was yet another unfolding event
leading up to the underlying reason some deep part of me chose
my Near Death Experience. There, I would learn the real reason
why I had chosen to be a teacher in this incarnation, long before I
was born.
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44
Chapter
9
THE 4 HORSEMEN COMETH

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the distance? Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, were they
deaf that they did not hear? Alfed Noyes
One early morning, as I sat struggling to breathe just before
dawn, I sensed the end was near. It no longer made any difference;
all I wanted was relief. Then, suddenly, somewhere between
snatches of sleep, one moment I was gasping for breath and in the
next I was falling through space. And I just kept falling, tumbling
through a black sky. Gripped with paralyzing, stark-naked terror,
instead of waking up, as I had in other falling dreams from the
past, I just kept on falling and falling, tumbling out of all control as
I fell.
As I tumbled, I became aware of a soft light in one part of the
black sky. Some part of my attention was drawn to the light and
whenever I could glimpse it, the attraction grew. As I struggled to
keep the light in my vision, I noticed that seeing it calmed me. The
more I focused on it, the calmer I became. Then I realized I was
falling towards the light. The closer I came to it, the brighter it
grew and the calmer I became. A warm feeling began in the pit of
my stomach and spread upward through my entire body as deep,
warm peace settled over me and the tumbling slowed.
On the distant horizon from where the light was coming, I saw
what looked like a line. As I drew closer, the line grew in size and
I realized it was a line of people walking toward me, silhouetted by
the light. I knew them all. Some I knew from my life on earth: my
grandfather with my favorite dog Butch, his tail, wagging in
greeting, and my othe r wise old granddad with his bemused, wry
grin. There was my sweet old Aunt Eleanor and favorite Uncle,
Sidney. There was a man who lived on a ranch up the river from us
45
THE FOUR HORSEMEN COMETH

who had always been nice to me. Also, there was a school teacher
and various people who had played a part in my life, but had gone
on ahead.
Then, there were the others.
They were entities I had known and loved in other times and
other places, not in my current life. In addition, there were entities
who were also part of my soul group (souls we had reincarnated
with over and over), but not of this earthly world, however, who
were as much a part of my extended being like those of this Earthexperience.
As we all met, I was flooded with the most intense feelings of
love I had ever known. As it flowed through the core of me, in a
very small way it was a little like the going home feeling I had
experienced on Earth as a young man returning home after being in
the Army in Europe for three years. I remembered as I drove up
that old familiar road to the ranch where Mom and Dad waited that
I had experienced a similar warm deep love. However, to compare
that feeling from then with this now was like comparing a drop of
seawater to the ocean itself.
Now, wave after wave of intense love rolled over me like the
waves of a great flood itself. It was a happy, joyous love full of
anticipation, closure, and promise. No words were exchanged, just
thoughts moving instantaneously, with perfect clarity, from one
mind to the other without the ability to withhold or judge anything.
It was all an expression and celebration of love that would on
earth, have been unfathomable. It was between members of an
ancient soul group, celebrating my return home once again.
As I was shown around, it was explained how most of our
celestial, eternal knowledge is blanked-out during our short life
spans on Earth. We must temporarily forget most of what our
higher self already knows so we can believe in the roles we have
chosen to play in our different lifetimes. Furthermore, they said
that it would take a while for our memories to all to come back.
They went on to say that life on Earth is a little like an extended
visit to a big theme park, with thrilling rides and various
46

adventures. And brother, sometimes it does get scary, but we
humans wouldnt have it any other way. After all, why else would
we leave the celestial realm, but for excitement, adventure, and
entertainment?
As one entity jokingly said, if the eternal, the God part, grows
tired of singing and playing harps, thousands of other universes
exist for our amusement and entertainment. The God part of us is
there providing choices for all eternity and eternity is a long
time.
As my orientation went on, it was explained how on this
celestial side of the veil anything we want is instantaneously
provided. We just need to feel a desire to have something, and it is
fulfilled. But there lies the reason for all the realms outside of
Heaven. Having everything we want, all the time, develops within
us a need for variety and change, for a challenge. It would be like a
card game where everyone is always dealt a perfect hand. Soon
the game would become boring and we would look for another,
more challenging one.
Somehow, all this sounded familiar. And, to familiarize
myself with the process, one of them asked me to think about
something I really wanted. Thinking back on it, what I chose
seems odd for such an esteemed place, and such an occasion, but
suddenly I had an urge for a piece of my mothers famous
homemade dark chocolate cake, with her special fudge frosting. As
soon as I thought of it, my mother was handing me the biggest
piece of dark chocolate cake I had ever seen. Dare I say it was
heavenly?
Although she appeared there with us, I knew some part of her
was still back on Earth because she was not one that had gone on
before. My guess is that she, at that same moment, was probably
asleep, dreaming of lovingly making her son a piece of her divine
chocolate cake.
After what could have been a few minutes or hours of
orientation, a deep silence began descending over everything, and
an all-encompassing Presence overshadowed the soul group and
47
THE FOUR HORSEMEN COMETH

its members faded into the background. It was a little like being in
a supermarket where music is playing in the background as you
shop when the volume fades and a voice overshadows the music
saying, Shoppers, on aisle #7, there is a great special on Red
Delicious apples.
As everything else faded, a voice, which really wasnt a voice
at all, said in resonating tones, Welcome home, son, you have
done a great job and welcome back. I was bathed in yet an even
deeper, more profound sense of love and acceptance which kept
just grew stronger until the voice went on to say, But as long as
you still have a warm body back on earth, would you like to get
another one out of the way?
I knew instantly what was being asked, even though at the
time of my death I hadnt believed in any form of reincarnation, or
anything else religious or spiritual. In spite of that, I instantly knew
I was being asked if I wanted to get more life lessons out of the
way.
Now my Sunday school teacher had always told us that there
is no pain in Heaven. I can tell you now, at least in that case, she
was wrong. I can still hear the agony of my echoing Nooooo,
still rattling around somewhere in those Celestial Realms.
I knew in my heart of hearts, in the deepest core of my soul,
that after escaping the surly bonds of Earth to touch the face of
God, as one poet put it, I wanted to stay. After experiencing what
I was experiencing, in no way did I want to go back to that place,
any time soon. They could have any part of my unused ticket,
they wanted. I was finished with that petty, trite, hellhole of a
world-game, even though I had people there whom, in earthlyterms, I had loved as dearly as earthly conditions allow, or at least
as well as I knew how to love at the time.
From that vantage point, I could see how trifling the world I
had left was. Here, on the other side, I would always be with souls
who have all loved me forever and will do so for eternity. Plus I
knew that momentarily, the loved ones who lagged behind on
Earth would join us. It might be years to them, but it would only be
48

moments in reality. Time is funny that way.
Then the Voice, with a tone of infinite patience and wisdom,
went on to say, One of the reasons you went to that planet to
begin with was to bring your daughter on board. She has some
very important work to do. Would you leave her fatherless, at her
young age?
What can a father say? Even if I had seemed to detach already
from that life, apparently there were deeper cords than I was aware
of and I knew instantly I would be returning whether it was what I
wanted at this moment or not. Then, as I went out of the door,
metaphorically, the Voice continued, Since you are going to be
there for awhile, there are a couple of things you could do while
you are there. However, it would be a while before I knew
anymore, and several years until I knew what the statement meant.
49
Chapter
10
LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

The darkest part of the night comes just before dawn, when no man
yet knows what the day will bring.
Humans, for the vast majority, believe grief comes with death.
In my case, true grief came with my return from death.
As soon as I realized I was returning, I was instantly back, in
my body, in my chair, clutching at my throat, trying desperately to
breathe. When I finally got my first gulp of air, devastating grief
replaced the joy and euphoria I had been experiencing. I had left
the place of purest, profound love, only to be back in what I had
seen as a sad, tired world, a great part of which seemed to be full
of loss, pain, and fear.
I dont know how long I sobbed in my grief, but eventually
my wife heard me when she got up and rushed downstairs, fearing
something tragic had happened. As I struggled to tell her, it
brought it all back and I sat there choking on my sobs. Gently, she
took my hand and with a look of caring concern, put her finger to
my lips. She seemed to understand it wasnt a death in the family
or other tragedy and said, Im not sure what happened, but it must
have been profound. Then she just sat with me in comforting
silence.
What happened over the next few days is a blur. Every time
my mind went back to it and where I had been, waves of grief
came over me. I had no interest in anything down here, but I knew
I was here for a long time to come. I alternated between anger and
despair. Nothing seemed to ease the pain, and I couldnt see how
anything ever could, except my going home again. I would have
considered suicide but, someway, I knew that was not an option for
51
LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

me, anymore. After all, I had already been there and accepted an
assignment that precluded any going back for some time.
What I didnt know at the time, was that I would shortly begin
to understand why life on earth had been so painful for me, as it is
for so many others. I would learn that Heaven wasnt a place at all,
but a state of mind. It was a state of mind that I could learn to
create here, or I wait until I died to enjoy. The choice was mine.
However, until this became part of my knowledge and
understanding I was back in, what seemed to me to be, a wretched,
timeworn old world.
Furthermore, I soon would understand that everything our
egos create turns to dust eventually. And, there is only one thing
we do that is lasts forever. That is any choice we make.
Furthermore, it is the choices we make, good and bad, added to our
bliefs we hold about the reality around us, that create the quality of
our lives while we are on earth.
However, in the time I was figuring all that out, In addition to
the loss of the celestial joy I had experienced, I also had another
grievous loss with which to contend. I had lost many deeply held
personal beliefs that made my life here on Earth make sense. Prior
to my death, I was comfortable with the general belief that after
death, oblivion ended it all, forever. So, holding that belief, all I
had to do was worry about my life prior to death itself. After death,
nothing mattered anyway, right?
Prior to my NDE, one of the tenets I loosely subscribed to was
one commonly held by many young American males: He who has
the most toys when he dies, wins. According to that belief, I had
been doing pretty well. I now knew that none of those things
mattered and most of the things I had accumulated meant nothing
at all.
Now, this world was as empty and hollow as the proverbial
tinkling brass of the Bible. What did that leave me? I suddenly had
nothing. Even what I had learned in Sunday school was far, far
short of the mark and of no help. Worst of all, while I was over
there, they gave me nothing to replace my earthly beliefs with,
52

except a knowledge, I would go home again, someday in the
future. In the meantime, I had no idea how to play this now new,
old game,
To give you an idea how I felt when I got back to this life,
lets say I had been a poverty-stricken man living in a poor ghetto.
Suddenly the Fairy Godmother appeared and transported me to
Paris. Suddenly, I had great wealth and the ability to speak perfect
French. In Paris, I was presented as an esteemed part of society and
they accepted me as such.
For a year or so, I fulfilled every indulgent whim and wish;
then, suddenly I am sent back to the ghetto, broke and no longer
able to speak French. In addition, when I got back I was unable to
speak even my native language.
Thats the way I felt utterly hopeless, destitute, and lost. In
addition, I now felt a far greater despair than when I had known I
was dying because I saw no end in sight. As I sat in blackest
despair, for some reason my mind kept returning to memories of
my earlier years. How could that life lead me to this? At the time I
had been surrounded by loving people, some of whom I now knew
were actually spiritual guides. I had been unquestioningly loved
and nurtured and I loved in return. What kind of a cruel God would
lead a person from that beginning, on to the privileged life, only to
then allow them to experience celestial ecstasy and send them back
to this? At least now, for some reason I was able to breathe when I
was asleep.
As you can imagine, my rejection of this life had a profound
impact on those around me. Some just thought I had been playing
football without my helmet, but for my wife, I can only imagine
the rejection she must have felt. And, my girls, to this day I am not
sure what they thought. Luckily, they were in high school and
absorbed in their teen culture and it seemed to lessen the impact.
However, as days turned into weeks, the self-pity seemed to
wear itself out. I had been over all of those questions before and
none of it changed anything. The only thing that did change was
that the same kaleidoscope of old dreams and memories that had
53
LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

haunted me prior to my death came back to haunt me again. This
time, they seemed almost a welcome relief to the litany of woe and
self-pity I had been wallowing in. Furthermore, it was beginning to
dawn on me that this whole experience wasnt about me dying or
returning, it was about something far bigger, and three memories
held the key as a place of beginning. It was all connected in some
way, and understanding that part would lead to more and my real
purpose for being back.
The first of these old dreams was about a year I was in the
fifth grade with my old nemesis. Even later as an adult, whenever I
thought of her, my mood would darken and Id find my fists
clenched and my pulse pounding. Strangely enough, while this
dream always started out that way, since my NDE, it would begin
that way and then morph into a situation where she and I would be
laughing and working on something, as if we were planning
something together, as equals.
The second dream that kept recurring was about the Army,
when they miscast me as a teacher in the program for illiterates. In
this dream, I kept morphing from the teacher into a role of one of
the students, enjoying school. Of course, the dreams of those times
were a kaleidoscope of happy faces and experiences. In the
tortured time prior to my NDE, they had just been confusing and
seemed meaningless. Now they seemed meaningful, but I didnt
have any idea why.
It was the third of these dreams that seemed prophetic. It was
all mixed-up with warmth and good humor. There were memories
of doing something meaningful, something important. I was
always with my old friend Henry the Superintendent, in our
experimental classroom for renegades and misfits. In the dream,
we were discovering and doing something important.
Sometimes, I would tie these three dreamlike fragments
together and for a brief moment, they would remind me of
something I had just experienced over there. For that moment, a
touch of relief from the suffering I was now experiencing would
bloom in my mind, but it never lasted.
54

In life, a great many people experience the death of others as
inconsolable loss and desolation when they lose those they love.
However, we cant tell from this side how it is experienced by
those we lose. In my case, and I expect in most cases, death had
been only a small bump in the road. What I was now experiencing
on my return was true desolation and loss, loss of an indescribable
celestial love that I had found and now lost.
About the only bright spot in my return was that for the first
few weeks following my NDE, for whatever reason, I wasnt
bothered with the sleep apnea. Whether it was just a period of
grace or something else, I dont know. However, in time, my
breathing problems came back with a vengeance. I had no idea
where to turn, so I went back to the original doctor who had treated
me. I told him I was ready to sign any kind of a waiver, but I
needed that operation. Apparently, by now the operation was no
longer experimental and they willingly consented to the treatment.
While the operation was a success, initially the cure was
almost as bad as the problem. Their only solution at the time was a
dire form of throat surgery where the interior passages of the throat
and trachea were completely restructured. In my case, after the
cutting and reshaping was completed, it took 48 stitches to put it
all back together. The stitches became important when I awoke, as
I had been told that as soon as I could swallow normally, I could
go home.
When I woke up, I discovered that swallowing was a luxury,
not just the normal activity it had been prior to surgery. The pain
was excruciating. Swallowing was something I actually planned
for in advance; minutes in advance! At the time, although I hadnt
realized it before, swallowing was something I found I could do
without for extended periods of time, and drooling was preferable
to swallowing, at least then.
However, regardless of how painful it was after surgery, the
relief it offered to my sleep apnea was immediate, and for a while,
I slept up to 20 hours a day. I guess I had a lot of catching up to do.
As my sleep deficit dissipated, I began to realize that the reason I
55
LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

had not wanted to be on earth after experiencing the after-life was
more the way I had been living my life, not Earth-life itself. Now, I
realized I had the tools to make life anything I wanted it to be.
Slowly, over time, life began to improve once I came to
realize that how we experience life is somewhat like we experience
Heaven when we arrive. At first, Heaven is exactly as we expected
it would be. In the same fashion, life becomes what we expect it to
be. If I didnt like my life, if things werent giving me the joy
and pleasure I was hoping to find, then I would have to make better
choices and look for where joy and happiness really reside. The
great shift came when I first realized the goal was happiness, not
things. Somehow, I had equated things with happiness. My
freedom came what first I realized, happiness was a state of mind,
and if I could be happy, things were unimportant.
Therefore, I set out changing what I wanted out of life.
Happiness became the goal, instead of things, and I already knew
how to achieve goals. I just used the goal setting techniques I had
used to get all the material things I had thought would bring me
happiness.
With that realization, I began looking for what actually
brought happiness, instead of what I had thought brought
happiness. Perhaps one of the most profound truths I received
during my trip to the other side was the realization that our essence
are feelings, not things. That doesnt change because we
temporarily live in a material universe, and material things are a
novelty at first. However, this novelty wears off over time, as our
soul matures.
If I could feel euphorically happy, would it matter what I was
doing? After all, wasnt that the real difference between how I had
felt over there and how I had felt before I died just feelings. I
began to understand what the old Tibetan Lama, meant when he
said, Happiness in chains is preferable to torment, while free. I
was finally realizing that he was saying that happiness is not
dependent on circumstances.
Now that I had the key to experiencing Heaven on Earth, all I
56

had to do was to learn to apply it, and that was a choice. But, that
is the subject of the next book,
<><><>
NOTE: If you enjoyed the book, help us spread the word by

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directly under the title.)
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ALSO: Post the video offer for a free copy of this on Facebook,
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Now, turn the page for a few words about the 2nd Volume of the
trilogy, Beyond Death and Back
57
ABOUT VOLUME II
Beyond Death & Back

Unique Near Death Experience with
Multiple return trips to the other side
Volume II chronicles what the Author saw and did on his fivereturn trips to the the Afterlife, in the two years following his
original death. In it he also deals with his disappointment
immediately following his return to this life, and what he learned
about happiness. Youll also learn about his struggles to follow his
inner guidance, in doing those assignments he was sent back to
accomplish.
To be order a copy of the second book in the trilogy, Beyond
Death and Back, Click Here
Go to the Authors website http://www.DuaneFSmith.org
58
About the Author
Duane F. Smiths unusual background and life experience

provided a unique perspective about the time we chose to be on
this planet. Born dyslexic himself, he found his early schooling a
challenge. Barely finishing high school, he left to join the Army
and had his life changed forever.
In the Armys infinite wisdom, this man who had, himself,
struggled in school was assigned to teach in an experimental
program designed by the University of Maryland, for the Army.
The University had developed a teaching technique that they called
Programmed Learning and were experimenting with 350 illiterate
draftees who, for whatever reason, had never attended school. The
University had designed the program to take these men from
grades 1 through grade 12, thereby allowing them to qualify for a
high school GED, which was the minimum standard required to
serve in the Armed Forces. However, the goal of the program
defied any conventional logic at the time. The program was to take
these men from the 1st grade to passing a 12th -grade equivalency
test . . . in 90 days!
Surprisingly, the program worked, with over 90% of the men
receiving their GED in the allotted time. It was this experience that
left the author angry and frustrated about his 12 boring; torturous
years wasted, accomplishing the same goal. The experience also
convinced him that there was a better teaching method than the
one-size-fits-all, method being used almost exclusively at all
levels.
After the Army, he moved to Ashland, Oregon, and there
began renovating old houses into college rentals. Meanwhile, in an
attempt to understand why his school had been so hard t for him,
he enrolled in a psychology class at what is now Southern Oregon
University. Eventually, he received a Masters Degree in
Education, with a focus on early childhood development.
60
Later, during a minor recession, when no money was available

for building apartments, he decided to teach for a year or two."
While not sure teaching was his lifes work, he hoped to be there
long enough to see if some of his theories about alternate methods
of teaching, worked, and he quickly found a teaching position in a
local school.
However, within a few months, when he was about to be fired
by his principal for unorthodox teaching methods, he came to the
attention of Henry O. Pete, the extremely innovative school
superintendent of the district where he was teaching.. They soon
found they each shared a belief that there was a better way.
Together they developed an experimental program for putting their
theories into action. In it, a blended class of 4th through 6th
graders were allowed to work at their pace and in their areas of
interest. They became to refer to their method as Child-Centered,
or Child-Directed, Learning. As the program thrived, they began to
unravel a puzzle on which they both were to spend most of their
lives pondering and studying.
However, after a few years, a new community college was
forming in the town to the north of where they lived, and that
group hired Henry to be its Founding President, and develop its
curriculum based on his learning theories. Henry asked the author
to join him in his new endeavor, as the Director of Adult Education
at the new college. However, the author made the decision not
uproot his family to follow Henry, and he left education. At the age
of 30, he went back to his thriving apartment development
business. With the fledgling base his company had built while he
was in college, the business had thrived. In a few years, it seemed,
to the people in the community, that he had it all. Furthermore, to
add to his feeling of success, the kids from their original program,
with whom they stayed in contact were, doing well.
At this point, an ongoing, medical problem worsened, and the
author underwent the most profound of life changes. At the age of
41, a doctor from Stanford Medical Center gave him five months
to live and sent him home to to get his affairs in order." He
eventually had what some refer to as a Near-Death or After Death
61
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Experience. Regardless of what one calls it. he died, crossed to the
other side and then returned to his body. However, in his case, in
the following 18 months he was taken by his soul guides, back to
the other side on five separate occasions, and he didnt even
believe in God, when he died. What he experienced and learned
was almost beyond words. And, it was here that he learned that as
many other people who were surviving NDEs, were being sent
back to tell their stories, to let people know that ones death isnt
the end of anything, it Is just the beginning of another adventure.
Suddenly everything in his life changed, and his priorities
shifted. Gradually, he was once again, drawn back to his
fascination with the mind/brain connection, and how it affected
how children learned. In time he realized that many new
discoveries in that field verified much of what he and Henry
discovered in the classroom, years before.
Feeling compelled, he began writing about what they had
discovered about the learning process, over the years. Renegade
Teacher, his 1st book, is about their original program, what
worked in the classroom, and what didnt. Then, he
wrote Renegade Class, the story of what became of the kids from
the first book, over the next 40 years. When those were published,
his guides to him that it was time to write about his trips to the
afterlife.
First, he wrote Dying to Really Live, about his original Death,
being on the other side and then of his return. Then, he wrote
Beyond Death & Back, the story of his five trips to the other side
and what he saw, learned and did, and what it lead to when he
afterwards. When he had finished his 2nd book, he began writing
Living in a New Tomorrow, about what he has been told to expect
in the coming decades. It is about education, why, if God lives
within, does he allow sickness in the body he shares. Then, it tells
of the Great Divide which is ahead for us all.
62

Go to www.NDESurvivor.org
63
A Special Acknowledgment
Perhaps it was the old Jewish Rabbi who, after reading a

rough draft called to say, This book must be finished and
published, then,came from California, to my home in Oregon, to
work with me on the manuscript. Or perhaps it was the editor and
publisher who drove from San Diego to Oregon to help work out
the rough spots, or perhaps it was the Mormon philosopher who
said, Now I understand some passages from the book of Mormon
which have always eluded me. Then again, perhaps it was the
born-again, retired teacher of dyslexics who, after reading the first
draft said, it needs work, but it must be published for the sake of
our kids. Regardless of whom they were, each appeared just when
they were needed, just as it should be.
Therefore, thanks to Rob Schlosser, Joan and David Vokac,
Joe Holley, Sandy Spaulding, Peggy Hill, Dianne and Jim Sesma
and the others, who helped in ways beyond my abilities. Then there
are my old friends, Dee and Barb Selby, who put up with me when
I am sure they would have preferred that I wasnt quite so focused
on my book. Furthermore, a heartfelt thanks to my two wonderful
girls, their husbands, and my grandkids that I have sometimes
neglected in the process of writings. To them all, I owe a debt of
gratitude. Also, a special thanks to Peggy Mitchell whose
understanding and critical eye helped me work through the rough
spots.
Finally, I owe a debt of gratitude to Rebecca Howard, Ann
Scornavacca and finally Dr. George, the editors who followed
behind this amateur writer, proofing and editing with infinite
patience, as needed.

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Dying to Really Live

Copyright 2014, Duane F. Smith

This book is the first of a trilogy of books about my original

of my last major learning assignment, to write of a what is ahead

How a small change in our schools will empower

If God Lives within us all, what is the purpose of

How individual mastery of Inner Guidance is the key

How Gods perfect plan of creation will bring the

How a Great Soul Divide ahead will be different than

How we can achieve Heaven on earth as we wait for

FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE

FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

FIVE MONTHS TO LIVE

THE EARLY YEARS

THE EARLY YEARS

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

THE EARLY YEARS

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

READING AT THE COPUTER DIFFICULT?

MY EARLY LIFE CHANGES

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

MY EARLY LIFE CHANGES

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

A LIFE CHANGING COINCIDENCE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

A LIFE CHANGING COINCIDENCE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

A LIFE CHANGING COINCIDENCE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

MY LIFE CHANGES AGAIN

MY LIFE CHANGES AGAIN

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

MY LIFE CHANGES AGAIN

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

THE 4 HORSEMEN COMETH

THE FOUR HORSEMEN COMETH

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

THE FOUR HORSEMEN COMETH

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

LEARNING TRUE GRIEF

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

NOTE: If you enjoyed the book, help us spread the word by

THEN: To email this free book offer to a friend Click Here

Beyond Death & Back

About the Author

Duane F. Smiths unusual background and life experience

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

Later, during a minor recession, when no money was available

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

DYING TO REALLY LIVE

To follow the future writings of the Author or to follow his blog,

Perhaps it was the old Jewish Rabbi who, after reading a