The first mile went smoothly, but then I began to experience mild chest pain. I attributed this to my chronic acid reflux, as I had dealt with similar discomfort in the past and even passed a stress test with flying colors even though that was many years ago. Assuming my big breakfast was to blame, I continued riding. However, by the third mile, the pain persisted and gradually worsened. I stopped to rest, but the pain didn't subside. Light-headedness and nausea set in, and though I suspected something was wrong, I tried to convince myself it was just acid reflux. Anxiety grew, and I decided to sit by the side of the trail, attempting yoga breathing to calm myself. Alone and struggling, I told myself, “If this is actually a heart attack, I’m ready to go. My soul is tired and I’m ready to leave this world.” I wasn’t suicidal by any means, but I accepted the possibility that my time had come. Yet my heart continued to beat, painfully, keeping me conscious.
Three Good Samaritan bikers finally arrived and realized I was in distress. One raced back for help while the other two stayed and talked with me, keeping me awake until paramedics arrived. Interestingly, the bike shop manager had sent them to check on me, even though I was only two hours into the ride where I had a three-hour window. Also, if my bike didn’t develop a flat tire that morning so I didn’t rent a bike that day, no one may have ever shown up to help. Anyway, the bike shop owner may have perhaps sensed something was wrong, or maybe he was simply being careful since I was riding alone.
One of the Good Samaritan riders who stayed with me and kept conversing with me to keep me conscious was an older but fit gentleman with bright white hair. He rode a high-end mountain bike that caught my attention so I was asking questions about it. His name was John, and I tried to look him up after the incident, but no one seemed to know who this person was. Food for thought, I guess.
Disoriented, I was soon picked up by paramedics in a golf cart and taken to an ambulance. Even then, I doubted the seriousness, worrying about the cost of an ambulance if it turned out to be only stomach issues. An EKG suggested a mild heart attack however, and I was given a nitro pill as a precaution.
At the hospital, I was quickly admitted to the emergency wing, hooked up to IVs, and closely monitored. My wife joined me about 30 minutes later, helping to calm my growing anxiety and confusion. Then a beautiful young nurse entered and introduced herself as Alisha—the very name I had given my spirit guide years before. She asked about my condition and explained the treatment process. My wife spoke with her more, and after Alisha left, my wife asked if I had caught her name. Suddenly, it struck me: this was the name from our “Name your spirit guide” family game. Overwhelmed, I teared up, deeply realizing I was going to be okay, even though many challenges lay ahead. My heart was beating irregularly, causing anxiety, but I felt a profound calm at the same time. It was a strange sensation, but it turned out my condition took a turn for the worse.
Moments after this realization, I suddenly “shifted out”—my body experienced a cardiac arrest. The initial sensation was rapid, even more so than falling asleep, and incredibly peaceful. This was my first NDE, and though seemingly simple, it was no less profound than those I had read about. I strive to describe the experience as authentically as possible, acknowledging the limitations of language and my brain's ability to process it. Imagine an ant dies suddenly and becomes a human for a moment and then returns to being an ant. How can this ant describe what it’s like to be human to his other ant buddies in the ant colony. He can’t! It experiences consciousness from a completely different perspective that it’s impossible to explain.
According to my wife, my heart stopped for around 30-60 seconds. Subjectively, it felt like a second, or perhaps hours or days—time was seemingly non-linear. I was not aware that I had died. There were no memories of my previous life at that moment; I existed in pure awareness, in a peaceful darkness often called “the void.” I felt bodiless, like pure consciousness. I had no attachments of any kind. This state seemed to be my fundamental essence before any mind-created manifestations—thus, my default condition before the universe existed. It was a place of absolute peace and love, where my “soul” could rest and recharge, comforted as if wrapped in a warm blanket. The only presence was my true self, or higher self, and God—the creator—the source—yet it also felt as though we were one and the same, a sensation difficult to comprehend. I was in bliss and did not want to leave. I could have stayed in that state of consciousness for eternity.
Coming back from this state was the polar opposite of dying—a violent sensation as the medical staff used a defibrillator to revive me. My consciousness was abruptly forced back into my body. My wife witnessed the entire event, urging me to return. She later said I screamed something incoherent, possibly otherworldly. From my perspective, I only remember the violent return and my scream, feeling anger at being forced back when I felt absolute contentment where I was. Although I knew I had a family, at that moment I struggled to care, overwhelmed by the transition. It took time to readjust to physical life. Then I asked the nurse who heroically revived me, “Why did you wake me up? I was asleep and I was perfectly fine?” She then replied … “No, you weren’t dear!”
Unlike many other NDE reports, I didn’t experience many of the features of an Out of Body Experience (OBE), nor did I travel through a tunnel or see a bright light. Though a few months later I did recall having the sensation of traveling at a high rate of speed going backwards where it was almost like going on a roller coaster backwards — if that makes any sense. But it seemed at the time that I simply shifted instantly from one reality to another. Perhaps my familiarity with NDEs meant I didn’t need to experience those stages, though that’s just speculation. Upon returning, I was disoriented, like waking from a vivid dream, but amplified significantly.
The medical team prepared me for angioplasty that evening, and I eventually received four stents in my left anterior descending (LAD) coronary artery—the “Widow Maker”—which was 100% blocked. During preparations, I suffered another cardiac arrest. I’m unsure how long my heart stopped this time.
In this NDE, I found myself in a beautiful meadow filled with pink flowers. I felt the same peace as before, with no transition—just an instantaneous shift from one reality to another. This time, I was more aware of a form or body; I was “walking” through the meadow. I had the perspective of seeing through normal “eyes” and looking down at my (astral?) body from above simultaneously. Ahead was a large tree on a hill. It looked like what we think of as the “tree of life” but fully bloomed with pink flowers and lush green leaves. There were about a dozen beings sitting in a circle of white chairs around the tree. The horizon was bright, and I felt unconditional, healing love from these beings. I sensed a Christlike presence as well. I vaguely became aware of time and realized that I had died and previously lived a physical life.
No words were exchanged, only feelings and a “download” of information, where the following is the best I could come up with at the time of writing this: • Don’t step any further • You are loved more than you can possibly imagine • We are assisting you in the healing process • You must go back immediately; you have much more to do • Physical life is precious and crucial to the universe • Love is the most powerful force in the universe. This is how my mind currently interprets what I received. I may recall more later, but this feels sufficient for now.
Even though time worked differently where I was, it seemed that we need to obey the laws of linear time in the physical world. Having said that, one of the practical reasons for the urgency of me returning to my body was that I need to be conscious during the angioplasty procedure and time was of the essence.
Once more, I was violently brought back to life. This time, however, I felt no anger—only complete peace and a renewed appreciation for the importance of physical existence. As the doctors worked on my artery, I felt calm, aided by medication (of course) but also by a deep sense of certainty that things would work out, one way or another. Even the doctor asked (while he was doing the procedure), "Do you trust me?" and I said calmly, "I have no choice." Just like I really had no choice but to come back because, in no uncertain terms, it wasn't my time yet.
A year later I had fully recovered from that major heart attack. I completed my rehab early and my heart function went from borderline heart failure (immediately after the heart attack) to normal heart function in only two weeks’ time. I have no doubt that divine healing intervention was at play here.
Immediately, I noticed increased sensitivity to life. For example, while outside getting fresh air after I arrived home from the hospital, I tried to stomp on a weed in my flower bed in a feeble attempt to kill it, but I felt unable to harm it, sensing a connection to it. That feeling has faded somewhat as I readjust to everyday life, but I hope it never disappears completely. I still have a greater appreciation for nature.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I now know it is a miracle I’m still here. I believe I am back for a reason, and for anyone reading this: you are here for a reason too. You are absolutely loved beyond your comprehension.