Eben Alexander

Proof of paradise

A person must see things as they are, and not the way he wants to see them.

Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

Little I often flew in a dream. This usually happened so. I dreamed, as if I stand at night in our yard and I look at the stars, and then suddenly separate from the ground and slowly climb up. The first few inches of lifting into the air occurred spontaneously, without any participation on my part. But soon I noticed that the higher the higher the flight depends on me, more precisely, from my state. If I strained and excited, it suddenly fell down, hardly hitting the Earth. But if I perceived the flight calmly, as something natural, it was rapidly carried out higher and higher in the starry sky.

Perhaps partly because of these flights in a dream later I developed a passionate love for aircraft and missiles - and in general aircraftthat you could give me a feeling of immense air space. When I was able to fly with my parents, then no matter how far the flight would be, it was impossible to tear away from the porthole. In September 1968, at the age of fourteen, I gave all my money earned by a haircut of the lulls, on the planning of the glider, which was conducted by one guy named Gus Street on Strozerry Hill, a small "flight field", overgrown with grass, not far from My native town Winston-Salem, North Carolina. I still remember how excitedly my heart was excited when I pulled the dark-red round knob, which pulled the cable connecting me with the towing plane, and my glider rolled out on the take-off field. For the first time in life, I experienced an unforgettable feeling of complete independence and freedom. Most of my friends are for this and loved a mad ride on the car, but, in my opinion, nothing could compare with the delight from the flight at an altitude of a thousand feet.

In the 1970s, while attending the University of North Carolina College, I began to engage in parasitic sports. Our team seemed to me with something like a secret fraternity - because we had special knowledge that were not accessible to everyone else. The first jumps were given to me with great difficulty, I wrote me a real fear. But to the twelfth jump, when I stepped behind the aircraft door to fly in a free fall more than a thousand feet before I cut the parachute (it was my first protracted jump), I already felt confident. In college, I made 365 parachute jumps and flew more than three and a half hours in a free drop, performing acrobatic figures with twenty-five comrades in the air. And although in 1976 I stopped engaging, joyful and very living dreams about Skaydayving continued to dream.

Most of all I liked to jump closer in the late afternoon, when the sun began to go to the horizon. It is difficult to describe my feelings during such jumps: it seemed to me that I was getting closer and closer to what it is impossible to determine, but what I felt frantically. This mysterious "something" was not an enthusiastic feeling of complete loneliness, because we usually jumped with groups of five, six, ten or twelve people, constituting various figures in a free drop. And the harder and harder was the figure, the greater the delight of me covered me.

In 1975, the guys from the University of North Carolina and several friends from the center of parachute preparation were gathered to stay in group jumps with the construction of figures. During the penultimate jump from the light aircraft D-18 "Beachcraft" at an altitude of 10,500 feet we made a snowflake out of ten people. We managed to get together in this figure even before the mark of 7,000 feet, that is, we have been enjoyed flying in this figure in this figure, falling into the gap between the huge clouds, after which a 3,500 feet were cut off, devoted to each other and revealed parachutes.

By the time of our landing, the Sun stood very low, above the earth itself. But we quickly climbed into another plane and took off again, so we managed to capture the last rays of the sun and make another jump before his full sunset. This time, two newbies participated in the jump, which attempted for the first time to join the figure, that is, take care of her outside. Of course, the easiest way to be the main, base parachute, because he just needs to fly down, whereas the rest of the team members have to maneuver in the air to get to him and cling to it with their hands. Nevertheless, both novice rejoiced a difficult test, as we, already experienced parachutists: after all, tracing young guys, subsequently, together with them could perform jumps with even more complex figures.

From the group of six people who had to portray the star over the runway of a small airfield, located near the town of Roanok Rapids, North Carolina, I had to jump the last. In front of me was the guy named Chuck. He had extensive experience in air group acrobatics. At an altitude of 7,500 feet, we still covered the sun, but the street lights already glittered below. I always loved jumping at dusk, and this promised to be just wonderful.

I was to leave the plane about a second after Chuck, and to catch up with the rest, my fall should have passed very rapidly. I decided to dive into the air, as in the sea, down my head and in this position, the first seconds of seven are flying. This would allow me to fall almost a hundred miles per hour faster than my comrades, and to be on the same level with them immediately after they start to build a star.

Typically, during such jumps, descending to a height of 3,500 feet, all parachutists disclaim their arms and diverge as far as possible from each other. Then everyone swears with his hands, feeding the signal, which is ready to reveal his parachute, looks up to make sure that no one is not, and only then pulls over the exhaust cable.

Three, two, one ... march!

One after another plane left four parachutes, behind them and we are with Chuck. Flying down your head and gaining speed in a free fall, I shook that I see the sunset for the second time a day. Approaching the team, I was already going to slow down to slow down in the air, throwing hands to the sides - we had costumes with wings of a fabric from wrists to the hips, which created powerful resistance, completely revealed at high speed.

But I did not have to do this.

I am falling in the direction of the figure, I noticed that one of the guys is approaching her in a slop quickly. I do not know, perhaps, he was scared by a rapid descent into a narrow gap between the clouds, reminding that he at the speed of two hundred feet per second rushes towards the giant planet, poorly distinguishable in a thickening darkness. One way or another, but instead of joining the group slowly, he swirl flew to her. And the five remaining parachutists randomly scarked in the air. In addition, they were too close to each other.

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Eben Alexander
Proof of paradise. Genuine history of the neurosurgeon travel in the afterlife

Proof of Heaven: A Neurrosurgeon's Journey Into The Afterlife

© 2012 by Eben Alexander, M.d.

Prologue

A person should rely on what is there, and not on what to be alleged.

Albert Einstein

In childhood I often dreamed that I fly.

Usually it happened like this: I stood in the courtyard, looking at the stars, and suddenly the wind picked me up and drove up. To break away from the ground itself, but the higher I climbed, the more flight depended on me. If I was worn up, too fully surrendered to the feelings, then with a swing slammed to the ground. But if I managed to keep calm and composure, I flew faster and faster - right in the starry sky.

Perhaps, my love for parachutes, rockets and aircraft grew up from these dreams - to everything that could return me to the transcendant world.

When the family and I flew somewhere on the plane, I did not get off the porthole from the take-off and until the landing. In the summer of 1968, when I was fourteen years old, I spent all the money taken by haircut money for the lessons on planurism. He taught me a guy named Gus Street, and our classes took place in Zasuberry Hill, on a small herbal "airfield" to the west of Winston-Syutima - the town in which I grew up. I still remember how the heart was pounded when I pulled a big red pen, dropped a towing cable, for which my glider was tied to the aircraft, and laid the turn to the summer field. Then I first felt myself truly independent and free. Most of my friends gained this feeling behind the wheel of the car, but in three meters of meters above the ground it is felt a hundred times sharper.

In 1970, already in college, I joined the club of parachuting at the University of North Carolina. It was like a secret fraternity - a group of people who deal with something exceptional and magical. Jumping for the first time, I was afraid to tremble, and for the second time I was even worse. Only on the twelfth jump, when I stepped out of the door of the plane and flew more than three hundred meters to the disclosure of the parachute (my first leap with a ten-second delay), I felt myself in my native element. By the end of the college on my account there were three hundred sixty-five jumps and almost four hours of free fall. And although in 1976, I stopped jumping, I still - clearly, as Introducts, - dreamed of protracted jumps, and it was wonderful.

The best jumps were getting closer in the late afternoon, when the sun kneaded to the horizon. It is difficult to describe what I felt at the same time: the feeling of proximity to something that I could not really call, but what I was always missing. And the point is not in solitude - our jumps did not have anything in common with loneliness. We jumped in a feather, a guy, and sometimes ten or twelve people at the same time, building figures in a free fall. Than more Group And the harder figure, the more interesting.

Once a wonderful autumn day of 1975, we meet our friend in a parachute center to work out group jumps. Having worked well, finally, we jumped out of the "Bichkraft D-18" at an altitude of three kilometers and amounted to Snezhinka out of ten people. We managed to connect to the perfect figure and flew so more than two kilometers, fully enjoyed the eighteenisecond free fall in deep splashing between the two tall-in cumulative clouds. Then, at the height of one kilometer, we crumbled and diverged through our trajectories to reveal parachutes.

When we landed, it was already dark. However, we jumped into another aircraft, quickly took off and managed to catch the last rays of the sun in the sky to make the second right jump. This time, with us jumped two newbies - it was their first attempt to participate in building a figure. They had to join the figure outside, and not to be in her foundation, which is much simpler: in this case, your task is just falling down while others maneuver to you. It was an exciting moment for them, and for us, experienced parachutists, because we created the team, we were shared with the experience with those who could further make even larger figures.

I had to be the last to join the six-star star, which we were going to build over take-off stripe Little airport near Roanoc Rapids, North Carolina. The guy who jumped in front of me was called Chuck, and he had considerable experience in building shapes in a free fall. At the height of two more than kilometers, we still bathed in the rays of the Sun, and on Earth there were already blissful street lights. Jump in dusk is always awesome, and this jump promised to become just beautiful.

- Three, two, one ... went!

I fell out of the plane literally a second after Chuck, however, I needed to rush to catch up with friends when they start to line up. Seconds seven I rush down my head as a rocket, which allowed me to decline at a speed of almost one hundred and sixty kilometers per hour and catch up with the rest.

In a dizzying flight upside down, almost reaching critical speed, I smiled, admiring the sunset for the second time. On the mouth to the rest, I planned to apply the "air brake" - the cloth "wings", which stretched from our wrists to the hip and dramatically slowed down, if they are deployed at high speed. I spread on the sides of the hand, the outbreak sleeves and braking in the air flow.

However, something went wrong.

Skidden to our "star", I saw that one of the beginners acted too much. Maybe the fall between the clouds scared him - made it remember that at a speed of sixty meters per second, he approaches a huge planet semi-widged thickening night millet. Instead of slowly clutching the edge of the "Stars", he crashed into it, so she crumbled, and now five of my friends tumbled in the air as it fell.

Usually in group protracted jumps at an altitude of one kilometer, the figure decays, and everyone is scattered as far as possible from each other. Then everyone gives a hatch with a hand as a card readiness to open the parachute, looks up to make sure that there is no one over him, and only after that he pulls the exhaust cable.

But they were too close to each other. A parachutist reserves an air trail with high turbulence and low pressure. If another person falls into this mark, his speed will immediately increase, and he can fall on the one who is below. This, in turn, will give acceleration to both of them, and they already together can crash in the one who will be under them. In other words, this is how the catastrophes occur.

I curved and flew away from the group so as not to get into this tumbleweed mass. I maneuvered until I was right above the "spot" - the magic point on the ground, over which we had to reveal our parachutes for a unhurried twinkle descent.

I looked around and experienced relief - disoriented paratroopers moved away from each other, so that the deadly bunch of Mala was gramnogu.

However, to his surprise, I saw that Chuck went to my side and stopped right under me. With all this group acrobatics, we slipped the mark at six hundred meters faster than he expected. Or maybe he considered himself a lucky way, which is not necessarily scrupulously follow the rules.

"He must not see me," this thought did not have time to fade in my head, as a bright exhaust parachute flew out of the backpack. He caught the airflow, rushing at the speed of almost two hundred kilometers per hour, and shot right in me, pulling the main dome.

From the moment I saw the exhaust parachute of Chuck, I had literally some second to respond. Because after a moment, I would fall into the revealed main dome, and then very likely - and on the chuck itself. If at such a speed I hurt his hand or leg, I would tear them completely. If I fell right on him, our bodies would scatulate pieces.

People say that in such situations time slows down, and they are right. My consciousness tracked about microseconds, as if I watched a movie in a very slow survey.

I face the face of consciousness to face, which exists absolutely independently of the restrictions of the physical brain

Sf face to face collided with the world of consciousness, which exists absolutely, regardless of the restrictions of the physical brain.

As soon as I saw an exhaust parachute, I pressed my hands to the sides and straightened the body in a vertical jump, slightly bent my legs. Such a situation gave me acceleration, and the bend provided to the body horizontal moving - First, a small one, and then such a gust of the wind, grabbed me, as if my body became a wing. I was able to slip past the chuck, right in front of his bright amphibious parachute.

We diverged at speeds of more than two hundred forty kilometers per hour, or sixty seven meters per second. I doubt that Chuck could see the expression of my face, but if he could, he would see how struck. Some kind of miracle I reacted to the situation for microseconds, and so, how could it hardly be, if I had time to think too much - it was too difficult to calculate such an exact movement.

And yet ... I managed to do it, and we both landed normally. My brain, being in a desperate situation, for a moment, as if found supersil.

How did I do it? During more than twenty-year-old neurosurge career, when I studied the brain, I watched his work and made operations on it, I had many opportunities to explore this question. But in the end, I resigned to the fact that the brain is really a striking device - we cannot imagine how much.

Now I understand that the answer had to look much deeper, but I had to go through the full metamorphosis of my life and the worldview to see it. My book is about the events that change my views and convinced me that, no matter how much the mechanism was not our brain, he didn't save my life on that day. What has come into effect in a moment when the chuck parachute began to open, is another, deeper part of me. A part that can move so rapidly because it is not tied to the time like the brain and body.

In fact, it forced me so much to scold in the sky in childhood. This is not only the smartest part of the person, but also the deepest, and yet most of his adult life, I could not believe it.

But I believe now, and on the following pages I will tell you why.

I am neurosurgeon. In 1976 he graduated from the University of North Carolina to Chapel Hill, where he specialized in chemistry, and in 1980 he received the title of Medicine at the Medical School of Duk University. All eleven years of study and orders in the Multidisciplinary Hospital of Massachusetts and at Harvard I specialized in neuroendocrinology.

This science studies how the nervous and endocrine system interacts with each other. Two years of these eleven, I investigated the pathological reaction of blood vessels during bleeding from the aneurysm - syndrome, known as cerebral vasospasm.

The graduate school on cerebrovascular neurosurgery I was held in the city of Newcastle Apone Tyne in the UK, after which fifteen years worked for an adjunct professor of surgery with a specialization at neurosurgery at Harvard's medical school. Over the years, I operated on the countless number of patients, many of which were in a serious and critical condition.

Most of Ov research work I dedicated to the development of high-tech procedures, such as stereotactic radiosurgery - a technique that allows surgeons to direct radiation beam onto a target deep in the brain, not assigger neighboring areas. I helped develop neurosurgical procedures based on MRI pictures, which are used with difficulty illness - tumors or brain vessel defects. Over the years, I became the author or co-author of more than a hundred fifty articles for specialized medical journals and presented its developments on more than two hundred medical conferences around the world.

In short, I dedicated myself to science. Apply tools of modern medicine for the treatment of people, learn more and more about the work of the human brain and body - this is what was my viability. I was incomprehensible happy because I found it. But no less than the work I loved my family - the wife and two of the glorious children, which he believed another great blessing in his life. In many ways, I was very lucky man - and knew it.

Human experience continues under a loving look of a caring God, who watches the universe and all the goal, concluded in it.

And on November 10, 2008, when I was fifty-four, the luck released to me, apparently, ended. I was struck by a rare disease, and I stayed in a coma seven days. For this week, the entire bark of my brain is exactly the part that makes us people, it turned off. Refused at all.

When your brain ceases to exist, you also do not exist. Working the neurosurgeon, I heard many stories about people who survived amazing adventures, usually after stopping the heart: they traveled on mysterious, wonderful places, talked with dead relatives, even met with the Most High themselves.

A striking things, no one argues, but they all, in my opinion, the fruit of fantasy. What causes these otherworldly experiences in humans? I do not know, but I know that all visions come from the brain, all consciousness depends on it. If the brain does not work, there is no consciousness.

Because the brain is a car that produces primarily consciousness. When the car breaks, consciousness stops. With the infinite complexity and mysteriousness of the processes occurring in the brain, the whole essence of his work comes down to this. Pull the plug from the outlet - and the TV will silenced. The curtain. And it does not matter if you like the presentation.

Approximately so I would express you the essence of the case before refused by my own brain.

While I was in a coma, my brain was not what worked wrong, he did not work at all. Now I believe that that is why the coma, in which I fell, was so deep. In many cases, clinical death occurs when a person's heart stops. Then the brain bark temporarily idle, but does not feel much damage to himself, provided that the influx of blood saturated with oxygen is restored for about four minutes - a person makes an artificial respiration, or his heart begins to beat again. But in my case, the cerebral bark was not at all. And then I face the face to face with the world of consciousness, which exists absolutely, regardless of the restrictions of the physical brain.

I appreciate my life stronger than ever, because now I see it in the true light.

My case is in some sense "perfect storm" 1
The perfect storm is an English phraseology, meaning an extraordinarily fierce storm, which arises from a crossing of several adverse circumstances and causes particularly strong destruction. - Note. ed.

Clinical death: all the circumstances agreed so much worse. Like a practitioner neurosurgeon with many years of experience in research and work in the operating room I had more possibilities Not only to estimate the likely consequences of the disease, but also to penetrate into the deep meaning of what happened to me.

This sense is terribly difficult to describe. Coma showed me that the death of the body and brain is not the end of consciousness that human experience continues behind the coffin. And even more importantly, what he continues under a loving look of a caring God, who is watching the universe and all that is concluded in it.

The place where I came was so real that our local life is ghostly in comparison with him. It does not mean at all that I do not appreciate my current life, no, now I appreciate it stronger than ever. This is because now I see it in the true light.

Earth life is not at all meaningless, but inside it is not visible to us - at least most of the time. What happened to me while I was lying in a coma - no doubt, the most important thing I can tell. But it will not be easy to do, because to comprehend the reality on the other side of death is very difficult. And then, I can not shout about her from the roof. However, my conclusions are based on a medical analysis of the experience gained and on the most advanced scientific concepts of the brain and consciousness. As soon as I realized the truth about my journey, I realized that it was obliged to tell about him. Make it properly became the main task of my life.

This does not mean that I left medicine and neurosurgery. But now, when I was awarded the privileges to understand that our life does not end with the death of the body or brain, I see my duty, my call is to tell about what he seen outside the body and outside of this world. Especially I do not wait to convey my story to people who, perhaps, have already heard similar stories and would like to believe them, can not.

It is these people, first of all, I first address this book. What I have to say is as important as the stories of others, and all this is true.

Chapter 1
Pain

I opened my eyes. The clock with red lights on a bedside table showed 4:30 in the morning - usually I wake up an hour later, the benefit of the road from our house in Lynchberg to the Focus-Ultrasonic Surgery Foundation in Charlottesville, where I work, takes only seventeen minutes. My wife Holly slept tightly nearby.

My family and I moved to the Virgin Mountains only two years ago, in 2006, and before that, for almost twenty years I was engaged in academic neurosurgee in Boston.

With Holly, we met in October 1977, two years after the end of the college. Holly cultivated in elegant artsAnd I studied at a medical school. She then met with the witch, my neighbor on the room. Once it agreed with him to meet, and he led her with him - probably to boast. When we said goodbye, I said Holly that she could come when wishes, and added that the Vika take with him not necessarily.

Finally, we agreed on the first present date. We drove in a car for a party to Charlotte - these are two and a half hours of ride one way. Holly had laryngitis, so 99% of the time I had to talk for two. It was easy.

We got married in June 1980 in Windsor, North Carolina, in the Episcopal Church of St. Thomas, and moved to the apartment "Royal Ovs" in Durham, where I was in the surgery in Duke. There was nothing royal in this place, and I do not remember any oak there. We had very little money, but we were both very busy business and so happy together that it didn't bother us at all.

One of my first holidays we spent in the spring tent tour of North Carolina beaches. Spring - Season of Moshki in Carolina, and our tent did not really defend them from this. However, it did not spoil us pleasure. Somehow in the evening, floating on the otlogs of the window, I came up with how to catch blue crabs that scattered out under the feet. We caught their whole mountain, dragged into the Pony Island Motel, where our friends lived, and prepared them on the grill. Crab has enough for everyone.

Despite the regime of tough economy, soon we found that we are firmly sitting on the mel. Once we got into the head to play Bingo with our best friends Bill and Patty Wilson. For ten years, every summer on Thursdays Bill played Bingo - and never won. Holly before that never played in Bingo. Call it the luck of a novice or providence interference, but she won two hundred dollars! At that time, it was all the same for us that five thousand. This money covered the costs of our journey, and we became much calmer.

In 1980, I became a doctor of medicine, and Holly received a degree and started his career of the artist and the teacher. In 1981, I conducted the first independent operation on the brain. Our firstborn, Eben IV, was born in 1987 in the maternity hospital Princess Mary in Newcastle Upon Mystery in North England, where I passed the redemption on cerebrovascular surgery. The younger Son, Bond, born in 1998 in the Boston Hospital Brigham End Women.

Fifteen years I worked in the Harvard Medical School and Hospital Brigham End Women, and it was good times. Our family values \u200b\u200bmemories of these years spent in Boston. But in 2005, the Holly and I decided that it was time to return to the south. We wanted to be closer to our relatives, and for me it was the opportunity to gain great independence. So in the spring of 2006 we started new life In Lynchberg, in the mountains of Virginia. The arrangement did not take much time, and soon we have already enjoyed the more familiar to us, the South, measured rhythm of life.

But back to the main narration. I woke up sharply and for some time just lay, sluggishly trying to figure out what I woke me up. Yesterday was Sunday - Clear, Sunny and Frosty, Classical Late Autumn in Virginia. Holly and the ten-year-old Bond went on the barbecue to the neighbors. In the evening they talked on the phone with Eben IV - he was twenty, and he studied at Delaware University. The only trouble is light flu, from which we did not completely recover from last week. Before bedtime, I had a spin sick, and I flew a little in the bath, after which the pain subsided. I thought that, perhaps, I woke up so early because I was still sitting the virus.

I moved slightly, and the wave of pain pierced the spine - much stronger than the day before. Obviously, the flu again made itself felt. The more I woke up, the stronger the pain became. Since there could be no speech about a dream, and I was in stock for a whole hour, I decided to once again take a warm bath. I sat down on the bed, lowered my feet on the floor and got up.

The pain has become much stronger - now she monotonously pulsed deeply at the base of the spine. Trying not to wake a holly, I went on tiptoe through the hall to the bathroom.

I opened the water and sank into the bath, confident that the heat will immediately bring relief. And in vain. By the time the bath was filled with half, I already knew that I made a mistake. I didn't just get worse - the back fell ill so that I was afraid, no matter how you had to call Holly to get out of the bath.

Reflecting on the community of the situation, I got up to a towel hanging out with a hanger right. Shifting it so as not to snatch the hanger from the wall, I started smoothly pull up.

The new punch of the pain pierced the back - I even hurried. This was definitely not flu. But then what? Selecting from slippery bath and thumping a red teddy bathrobe, I slowly walked back to the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. The body was already wet from cold sweat.

Holly moved and turned over on the other side.

- What happened? What time is it now?

"I don't know," I said. - Back. Hurts a lot.

Holly began to rub my back. Oddly enough, I became a little better. Doctors, as a rule, do not like to hurt, and I am no exception. At some point I decided that the pain - no matter what causes her reason - finally began to serve. However, by 6:30 - at this time I was usually leaving for a job - I still experienced hellish torments and was actually paralyzed.

At 7:30, Bond came to our bedroom and was curious, why I'm still at home.

- What happened?

"Your father feels not very good, honey," Holly said.

I was still lying on the bed, my head on the pillow. Bond came up and began to gently massage me whiskey.

From his touch, my head seemed to pierce the lightning - even worse pain than in the back. I cried out. Not waiting for such a reaction Bond bounced off.

"Everything is fine," Holly said, although she was written on her face. - You have nothing to do with it. Pope is terribly headache.

Then she said, turning more to himself than to me:

- So I think, do not cause an ambulance.

If there is something that doctors hate even more than to hurt, is to lie in the receiving office as a patient delivered by ambulance. I would vividly imagined the arrival of the brigade of the ambulance - how they float the whole house, ask endless questions, bring me to the hospital and make me fill in a bunch of papers ... I thought that soon it would be better for me and should not be an intersection on trifles.

"No, everything is in order," I said. - Now bad, but it seems, everything will come soon. Better Help Bonda gather to school.

- Eben, I think ...

"Everything will be fine," I interrupted my wife, without taking faces from the pillow. I was still paralyzed pain. - Seriously, do not call 911. I am not so sick. It is just muscle spasm at the bottom of the back, and even a headache in addition.

Justing the heart of Holly led Bond down. She fed him with breakfast, and he went to a friend with whom he should have ride to school. As soon as the entrance door closed, it occurred to me that if I was seriously sick and still I would be in the hospital, we will not see you in the evening. I gathered with the forces and hoarsely shouted to him after: " Have a nice day at school, bond. "

The new punch of the pain pierced the back - I even hurried. This was definitely not flu. But then what?

By the time Holly climbed up to check my well-being, I had already failed in infamous. She thought that I was tornish, I decided not to disturb me and went down to call my colleagues in the hope of finding out what could happen to me.

After two hours, Holly, believing that I rested enough, returned to spend me. Pushing the door of the bedroom, she looked inside, and it seemed to her that I was lying as lying. But, looking at it better, she noticed that my body is no longer relaxed, but intense, like a board. She turned on the light and saw that I jerly twitch, my lower jaw was unnaturally filled forward, and the eyes were open and rolled up.

- Eben, say something! - Holly screamed. When I did not answer, she scored 911. There were no ten minutes, as the ambulance arrived, they quickly immersed me into the car and were lucky to Lynchberg's Multidisciplinary Hospital.

If I were conscious, I would tell Holly that it happened to me in the terrible minutes, while she waited for ambulance: the strongest epileptic fit, caused, without a doubt, some very strong impact on the brain.

But I, of course, could not do this.

The following seven days I was only a body. I do not remember what happened in this world while I was unconscious, and I can only retell with other people's words. My mind, my spirit - no matter how naming the central, human part of me - all this disappeared.

Attention! This is an introductory fragment of the book.

If the start of the book you liked, then full version You can buy from our partner - a distributor of legal content LTRES LLC.

In this book, Dr. Eben Alexander, Neurosurgeon with 25 years of experience, a professor who taught at Harvard Medical School and other major universities, shares his experience with the reader about his journey to the next world. Its case is unique. Struck by the sudden and inexplicable form of bacterial meningitis, he was miraculously healed after a seven-day coma. Highly educated medic with a huge practical experience, which before not only did not believe in the afterlife, but also did not allow her thoughts about her, I experienced the movement of my "I" in higher worlds And ran into there with such striking phenomena and revelations, which, returning to earthly life, found his duty of a scientist and healer to tell about them in the whole world.

Prologue 1.

Chapter 1. Pain 3

Chapter 2. Hospital 4

Chapter 3. From nowhere now

Chapter 4. Eben IV 5

Chapter 5. Outdoor World 6

Chapter 6. Anchor of Life 6

Chapter 7. Flowing Melody and Gate 7

Chapter 8. Israel 8

Chapter 9. Shining Mentorticity 8

Chapter 10. The only important 9

Chapter 11. The end of the helix leading down 10

Chapter 12. Shiny Mentorticity 12

Chapter 13. Wednesday 13

Chapter 14. Special type of clinical death 13

Chapter 15. Dar of Memory Loss 13

Chapter 16. Well 15

Chapter 17. Status No. 1 15

Chapter 18. Forget and remember 16

Chapter 19. No means to hide 16

Chapter 20. Completion 16

Chapter 21. Rainbow 17

Chapter 22 Six Persons 17

Chapter 23. Last night. First morning 18.

Chapter 24. Return 18

Chapter 25. Not here 19

Chapter 26. Distribution of News 19

Chapter 27. Return home 19

Chapter 28. Superraconductance 20

Chapter 29. Common Experience 20

Chapter 30. Return from death 21

Chapter 31. Three camps 21

Chapter 32. Visiting the Church 23

Chapter 33. Mystery of Consciousness 23

Chapter 34. Decisive dilemma 25

Chapter 35. Photo 25

Appendices 26.

Bibliography 27.

Notes 28.

Eben Alexander
Proof of paradise

Prologue

A person must see things as they are, and not the way he wants to see them.

Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

Little I often flew in a dream. This usually happened so. I dreamed, as if I stand at night in our yard and I look at the stars, and then suddenly separate from the ground and slowly climb up. The first few inches of lifting into the air occurred spontaneously, without any participation on my part. But soon I noticed that the higher the higher the flight depends on me, more precisely, from my state. If I strained and excited, it suddenly fell down, hardly hitting the Earth. But if I perceived the flight calmly, as something natural, it was rapidly carried out higher and higher in the starry sky.

Perhaps, in part because of these flights, in a dream, I developed a passionate love for aircraft and missiles - and in general to any aircraft that could again give me a feeling of an immense air space. When I was able to fly with my parents, then no matter how far the flight would be, it was impossible to tear away from the porthole. In September 1968, at the age of fourteen, I gave all my money earned by a haircut of the puddles, on the management of the glider, who led one guy named Gus Street at Strokerry Hill, a small "flight field", overgrown with grass, not far from My native town Winston-Salem, North Carolina. I still remember how excitedly my heart was excited when I pulled the dark-red round knob, which pulled the cable connecting me with the towing plane, and my glider rolled out on the take-off field. For the first time in life, I experienced an unforgettable feeling of complete independence and freedom. Most of my friends are for this and loved a mad ride on the car, but, in my opinion, nothing could compare with the delight from the flight at an altitude of a thousand feet.

In the 1970s, while attending the University of North Carolina College, I began to engage in parasitic sports. Our team seemed to me with something like a secret fraternity - because we had special knowledge that were not accessible to everyone else. The first jumps were given to me with great difficulty, I wrote me a real fear. But to the twelfth jump, when I stepped behind the aircraft door to fly in a free fall more than a thousand feet before I cut the parachute (it was my first protracted jump), I already felt confident. In college, I made 365 parachute jumps and flew more than three and a half hours in a free drop, performing acrobatic figures with twenty-five comrades in the air. And although in 1976 I stopped engaging, joyful and very living dreams about Skaydayving continued to dream.

Most of all I liked to jump closer in the late afternoon, when the sun began to go to the horizon. It is difficult to describe my feelings during such jumps: it seemed to me that I was getting closer and closer to what it is impossible to determine, but what I felt frantically. This mysterious "something" was not an enthusiastic feeling of complete loneliness, because we usually jumped with groups of five, six, ten or twelve people, constituting various figures in a free drop. And the harder and harder was the figure, the greater the delight of me covered me.

In 1975, the guys from the University of North Carolina and several friends from the center of parachute preparation were gathered to stay in group jumps with the construction of figures. During the penultimate jump from a light aircraft D-18 "Bichkraft" at an altitude of 10,500 feet we made a snowflake out of ten people. We managed to get together in this figure even before the mark of 7,000 feet, that is, we have been enjoyed flying in this figure in this figure, falling into the gap between the huge clouds, after which a 3,500 feet were cut off, devoted to each other and revealed parachutes.

By the time of our landing, the Sun stood very low, above the earth itself. But we quickly climbed into another plane and took off again, so we managed to capture the last rays of the sun and make another jump before his full sunset. This time, two newbies participated in the jump, which attempted for the first time to join the figure, that is, take care of her outside. Of course, the easiest way to be the main, base parachute, because he just needs to fly down, whereas the rest of the team members have to maneuver in the air to get to him and cling to it with their hands. Nevertheless, both novice rejoiced a difficult test, as we, already experienced parachutists: after all, tracing young guys, subsequently, together with them could perform jumps with even more complex figures.

From the group of six people who had to portray the star over the runway of a small airfield, located near the town of Roanok Rapids, North Carolina, I had to jump the last. In front of me was the guy named Chuck. He had extensive experience in air group acrobatics. At an altitude of 7,500 feet, we still covered the sun, but the street lights already glittered below. I always loved jumping at dusk, and this promised to be just wonderful.

I was to leave the plane about a second after Chuck, and to catch up with the rest, my fall should have passed very rapidly. I decided to dive into the air, as in the sea, down my head and in this position, the first seconds of seven are flying. This would allow me to fall almost a hundred miles per hour faster than my comrades, and to be on the same level with them immediately after they start to build a star.

Typically, during such jumps, descending to a height of 3,500 feet, all parachutists disclaim their arms and diverge as far as possible from each other. Then everyone swears with his hands, feeding the signal, which is ready to reveal his parachute, looks up to make sure that no one is not, and only then pulls over the exhaust cable.

Three, two, one ... march!

One after another plane left four parachutes, behind them and we are with Chuck. Flying down your head and gaining speed in a free fall, I shook that I see the sunset for the second time a day. Approaching the team, I was already going to slow down to slow down in the air, throwing hands to the sides - we had costumes with wings of a fabric from wrists to the hips, which created powerful resistance, completely revealed at high speed.

But I did not have to do this.

In this book, Dr. Eben Alexander, Neurosurgeon with 25 years of experience, a professor who taught at Harvard Medical School and other major universities, shares his experience with the reader about his journey to the next world.

Its case is unique. Struck by the sudden and inexplicable form of bacterial meningitis, he was miraculously healed after a seven-day coma. A highly educated medic with a huge practical experience, which before not only did not believe in the afterlife, but also did not allow her thoughts about her, tested his "I" to the Higher Worlds and collided there with such amazing phenomena and revelations, which, returning to earthly life , I found my duty of the scientist and the doctor to tell about them in the whole world.

Right holders! The presented fragment of the book is placed in coordination with the distributor of legal content Ltres LLC (no more than 20% of the source text). If you think that the placement of the material violates your or anyone, let us know.

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The term "near-challenging experiences" (OSP) was proposed by Dr. Raymond Mudi in a very entertaining book. "Life after life". According to the definition formulated International Association Research of near-themeal states, OSP - what a person experiences, surviving the episode of dying; The experience of people who were declared clinically dead, which were very close to the state of physical death or were in a situation where death is very likely or seems inevitable. Survivors such experience often claim that the term okolosmeneincorrect because it was precisely State of deathAnd not just close to her and indeed, many of them doctors announced clinically dead.

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In the overwhelming majority of cases, the near-minded experience is accompanied by a feeling of love, joy, peace and bliss. Only a relatively small number of people report negative experiences associated with a sense of fear. At the same time, the OSP is invariably characterized as ultrasound - even more real than earthly life.

But what is the most interesting, in millions of certificates of accidental experience and reports on experiences in a state of hypnosis, as it turns out, much in common. And in those and in other cases, we are talking about the wrong state, about complete awareness (consciousness, however, abides outside the body, and sometimes even looks at it from above), the light tunnel (that is, the "mole hole" leading to another dimension), A meeting with already late favorite people, contact with the love of love with spiritual entities, the recharge of life, incredibly beautiful landscapes and a stunning sense of life destiny and universal knowledge.

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Neurosurgeon Alexander before he himself survived the near-mercury experience, was a convinced skeptic. Many of his patients reported on deep OSP, but he all the time shouted from their experiences, writing them off on hallicinosis. But the doctor had to dramatically change his views when he, infected with a rare virus, fell into a few days. This case is interesting and allocated among others that this virus hit the brain, as a result of which Alexander this body was completely out of order, and the broken brain is not able to create even hallucinations. Therefore, if consciousness really was a product of brain activity, as many neurosurgeons believe, then in the situation of Dr. Alexander anythe experiences would be completely excluded. His brain could not produce thoughts, nor emotions, and, of course, all the electrical activity of the central nervous system, followed by observation throughout the week coma, did not show absolutely nothing. And nevertheless, what he worked was not at all "nothing".

Instead of not seeing and not to feel, the doctor became a member of extremely amazing events. He visited the next world and experienced incredible experiences - despite its brain was completely turned off. He could not all imagine it or see in a dream, since his brain, struck by a rare virus, was inactive. Since from the point of view of science, this circumstance eliminates any hallucinations, as well as suggestion and imagination, follows from this the only conclusion: Dr. Alexander stayed outside the body as a pure consciousness and the world he says about, and everything he saw, real 100%.

A member of a scientist if the facts outlined by it are extremely fascinating and revolutionaryin scientific relationship. It explicitly proves not only that we never lose consciousness, but also the fact that the awareness can take a variety of unique forms (Alexander writes that it was just a point of awareness in different time periods, devoid of ideas about himself and personal identity, which confirms Scientific position considered by us earlier: all in the universe endowed with awareness). In addition, it indicates the existence of absolutely real Mirawhich in the literal sense is a paradise.

The story of Dr. Alexander's doctor is especially interesting in that it, being a scientific confirmation of the near-minded experiences of other people and research of hypnotherapists, such as Newton, describes not just the spheres of life-between-lives, but, apparently, and the most real regional world of the highest beauty - and allows us to look into the striking area by the edge of physical existence.