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Printed by
You Can Change Your Life
P.O. Box 7691
Charlottesville, VA 22906-07691
Hi there! My name is P.M.H. Atwater. In 1977 it is my
belief I physically died three times. Because of what I saw
and experienced, my life has never been the same since
...nor have I. Though I was seriously ill, I was never hospi-
talized. Doctors were summoned only after the fact. This
means I do not have documented proof I was actually dead.
P. M. H. ATWATER This little book, then, is one woman’s story. Just a story.
And as with all stories, some people will believe it and
some won’t, some will find it interesting and some will
think it hogwash. That’s okay. It really doesn’t matter to me
how people label it or what conclusion they reach. You see,
their opinions don’t change any thing. Not at all. What hap-
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be repro- pened, happened. Nothing can change that. It was a long
duced or utilized in any form by any means without per- nightmare that became a phenomenal blessing. It was a time
mission of the author. when my world and everything in it came to a crashing halt.
Not once, but three times.
What I saw on the “other” side is like nothing else I’ve
heard anyone else describe. Oh, there are some similarities,
but that’s about it. It took nearly two years to rebuild my
FIRST EDITION, NOVEMBER, 1980 body. I had very little money or insurance and wasn’t get-
SECOND EDITION, MARCH, 1998 ting anywhere with regular medical treatments. The worst
of the symptoms were gone but I was still sick and con-
fused. So, I took a daring step for me. I left orthodox med-
ical care and committed myself to a program of “natural
healing” in all its many forms and variables. I had to start
Published shed in the United States of America from the bottom up: crawling, standing, walking, running,
climbing, hearing, seeing, reasoning, relating, telling left
You Can Change Your Life from right. Sometimes I lost more ground than I gained. I
P.O. Box 7691 was determined though, and I made it. Not only did I get
Charlottesville, VA 22906-07691 well, but I’m now younger, healthier, happier, more at peace
than ever before in my life.
There are really two main stories to what happened to me

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- the events themselves and what I learned from them . . . a what they experienced, they returned panic-stricken, deny-
book of death and a book of life. This little book concerns ing all the stories of beauty told by others and claiming any
the death encounters, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. A form of heaven to be a figment of imagination and wishful
lot has been left out. So don’t be confused by missing thinking. The metaphysical or more abstract thinkers (those
details. It’s a little book of pain, horror and miracles. The people more open to variables than to any form of dogma or
rest of the story might be written someday, but for now this tradition) most often experienced incredible dimensions of
initial rendering is enough. higher learning, guides and masters, light beings, and near-
ly impossible-to-describe phenomena. Those that died
The book of life, of health and wholeness, will be writ- believing they would sleep until awakened by Gabriel,
ten handbook style and should be ready for print in 1981. It reported a black darkness, a feeling of being trapped and
will be pragmatic, specific and surprisingly honest and alone, stranded.
open. There’s nothing like dying to clear your head and turn
your priorities around. The process has a way of cutting What I’ve finally come to realize is we truly and most lit-
through all we surround ourselves with to shine a brilliant erally create our own realities. When we die, the reality we
spotlight on what’s really there. I’m excited about the created is where we will live and what we will become. Our
opportunity to write it, so we’ll see what happens. conscious minds, our thinking, our words, seem to have lit-
tle bearing if any on what will happen to us. The one deter-
You know, all of us will die someday. When that day mining factor and the only absolute I could find (if there’s
comes we will each have an opportunity to find out for our- any such thing as an absolute) was: WHEN WE DIE WE
selves what awaits us. It’s not the same for everyone. It’s WILL MEET AND BECOME WHAT WE TRULY ARE.
different - depending on you, your choices in life and what Whatever system of belief we have built for ourselves with-
you truly believe. Since late 1978 when I began speaking of in our subconscious mind, whatever we have accepted as
what happened to me, I have talked with people by the thou- true at the deepest level of our being . . . that is what we will
sands in many states. I’ve met more “near death” survivors find when we cross through death’s doorway. No more. No
than I can count, many of whom I’ve hugged, shared with, less.
or counseled as they continued their own battles to rebuild
and make some sense out of what happened to them. The But that’s not all. I found there to be a kind of rhythm
stories of what they saw or experienced are not the same. and fluctuation to what we experience once we cross over.
Some of the stories are filled with wonder, awe, inspiration, It’s like we’re left for awhile to meet ourselves and what we
beauty and joy. Others are crammed d with seemingly end- once considered truth. We can revel in the joy of it or with-
less horrors and panic. Those who were committed to draw in horror. We’re left to thoroughly experience our-
Judaism most often saw Father Abraham. Those who were selves and what we lived through and learned while on
fundamental Christians most often met Jesus. The Earth. Then, sooner or later, along will come a feeling,
Buddhists saw Buddha. The Atheists saw their neighbors or voice or being who will gently but patiently show us a bet-
best friends. And on and on. ter way and lead us upward toward soul-stirring surprises
. . . vast vistas of learning and experience beyond anything
The so-called “good” people, who deep within them- we could have ever imagined. As we reach out to what we
selves were actually filled with anger or bitterness or fear, are shown or led to, there spreads before us more beyond
met those negatives head-on; and were so traumatized by that, and beyond that even more still. I couldn’t find any

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endings, any arrivals, or even any beginnings. All I found to
be valid beyond death’s door were endless possibilities of
expansion and growth or equal opportunities to contract and
There are some surprises in this. And the reason is sim-
ple enough. We’re not always consciously aware of what
we truly believe. All too often, we’re all so busy mouthing
words, shouting shoulds, grabbing dollars, defending
rhetoric, worshiping objects, and manipulating people ...we
don’t really know what to believe. The cultural use of the
American language, for instance, is based upon the degree
of style and finesse with which one can mask what they feel
or hide what they mean. Someone who is open and honest
is declared immature and childish. Someone who questions
and searches is declared antisocial, a threat to the commu- death
nity. Soon anyone who is filled with creativity and joy is
banished from business or corporate environments as unfit
or mentally ill. We say one thing and do another. That is is the window
socially acceptable. That is normal.
The four main articles to follow were originally published to
in MANY SMOKES magazine in serialized form. MANY
SMOKES is a Native American Earth Awareness magazine dimensions
produced by The Bear Tribe (it has since gone out of print).
Sun Bear, a Chippewa Medicine Man, and his Medicine
Helper, Wabun, are leaders of the Tribe and have been dear
beyond the
friends of mine for more years than I care to remember. It
was after the death of Wabun’s mother that I was asasked to unfathomed
speak of death and what I went through in 1977. It is
because of their encouragement that I began to think more and
clearly of what had happened to me and how I might share
the experiences with others.
To Sun Bear and Wabun, I say a deep and loving thank
you. Ho!
P.M.H. Atwater

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premise that we live more than one life. People in the
United States, especially, seem hungry for any shred of
proof, any documentation at all that can be verified on past
lives. Can it ever be proved? Can the Western empirical
mind ever accept such a concept and incorporate it into their
traditional Christian philosophy? It’s enough for Americans
to face the subject of life after death without having to con-
sider life after life.
Death is a fact of life. Remember your first funeral, the
first time you looked into the coffin and saw the lifeless
form of someone you once knew? Life was gone, but where
did it go? The body was buried in a grave, but what hap-
pened to that “sparkle” that once motivated the body and
ABOUT DEATH gave it personality and movement? Is that all there is to life,
ABOUT DYING to live a few years, expanding and developing that spark
within, only to stop cold when the body ceases to function?
What’s the use of life anyway? What’s the purpose to liv-
ing? Maybe when we solve the riddle of death, we will
automatically solve the puzzle of life. The two are opposite
Death! The word carries with it so many preconceived sides to the same coin, functioning together in a cosmic
images, mysteries and fear. What of death? What is it real- plan.
I’ve been hearing a lot about life after death. Maybe you,
Death has become a household word lately, thanks to like me, have known someone or read or heard about some-
people like Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and her pioneering one who died in an accident only later to revive and speak
efforts in the field of death and dying, Dr. Raymond Moody of seeing angels, guides, cities, schools and loved ones
and his book LIFE AFTER LIFE, movies like BEYOND encountered on the “other” side. Perhaps you know some-
AND BACK and RESURRECTION, TV talk shows and one who was ill or having an operation when a close brush
popular magazines. with death occurred and again the story was later told of
seeing a departed loved one, ta talking with Jesus, or romp-
People are finally openly talking about death and the pos- ing through some “heavenly” meadow of crystalline grass.
sible existence of life after death. They’re saying such Thanks to people like Drs. Ross and Moody, more people
things as: maybe death doesn’t end life, maybe it’s just a are relating their experiences. They feel freer to open up and
doorway into other realities, other dimensions of life. The describe what they saw and heard. With the increase in sto-
really daring thinkers of today are going one further . . . ries, comes the incredible pattern of similarity - the upward
reincarnation. This ancient fact of life to millions in the progression, the dark tunnel, blinding lights, magnificent
Eastern world is a shocking departure to the Western mind. music, loving guides and helpers, departed loved ones
Moviedom is capitalizing on that shock value and is making glowing with health and joy. Some of the details vary from
large sums of money on current films devoted to the person to person, but the essential story is pretty much the

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same. Death as we know it does not exist. There is life after wife’s or your child’s? What happens when the blood’s in
death. Death does not end anything. It is merely a doorway. your bed and the screams of pain and fear echo in your ears?
What of death then? What happens to those neat theories
Those brave souls who boldly proclaim there’s no such when the fatal moment comes? Do you kiss it off with a
thing as death, go on to speak of “wisdoms” they’ve since prayer? Do you hate God and cry, “Why me?” Or do you
learned . . . that all life evolves (progresses) from life to life turn the other cheek and mumble, “It’s God’s Will.”
with the soul force learning and growing from each experi-
ence in an incredible parade toward Perfection and oneness Mentalize all you please. Be you religious or metaphys-
with the Creator. There are whole schools of thought about ical or whatever, it still all comes back to the gut YOU and
seven levels to the earthplane, seven rays of color we all where you are right now in your life. How do you feel about
pass through, seven barriers we must conquer in our upward death? Are you afraid to die, or ARE YOU AFRAID TO
climb. Interestingly enough, the number seven has always LIVE? There’s a whole world out there of “GOD HELP
been held magic or sacred in every culture on Earth ME, I’M NOT READY YET!”
throughout recorded time.
We will all die. There’s no stopping that. Someday we
For those not into the “seven game,” there are enough each will know for ourselves what death is and whether or
other theories and ideas to provide lively conversations for not we are a body, or pure energy residing in a body. Death
evenings to come. Many hypnotists now regularly regress and dying, though popular topics today, are really very per-
people into former lifetimes, discovering causal incidents sonal intimate subjects, as close to us as our next breath.
for present life problems, latent talents waiting to be devel- They are intensely private issues of serious concern. Death
oped, and often revealing recurring habit patterns that can is the most ultimate climax our linear world of matter can
be faced and conquered in the present existence. give us. There is nothing else so final.
Today’s topic of death is really a complex one that chal- In 1977 through a series of severe traumas, hemorrhag-
lenge our entire belief-system, religious makeup and linear ing and blood clots I died three times. I didn’t talk about it
thinking. The new fad of “The Death Topic” is giving way much. It was all too personal and I was convinced no one
to serious research and some surprising turnarounds. would believe me. My experience was so different, so total-
Millions of dollars are being spent by some corporations ly unbelievable. I feel better about it now. I’m no longer
and many schools toward finding answers. Though hard defensive about proving anything to anyone. I no longer
fact is still elusive, some gains are being made. Take Dr. feel threatened by angry people who damn me to hell for
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, for example, and the physical man- speaking heresy. That’s their hangup, and they’ll have to
ifestation of her spirit guide in front of a crowd of 75 face their fears soon enough.
strangers, or the discovery that we really are energy and the
energy we are can be measured and weighed in terms of I don’t speak about ideas and theory. I speak only from
kilowatts. personal experience. Let no one ever call me an expert or
authority. There’s no such thing and no such person! Least
But where does all this put you? Somewhere between the of all me. I’m just a woman who has stubbed her toes a lot
pages of the popular press and the glistening screens of in life and “fallen from the peaks of many mountains.” I’m
moviedom, here’s your next door neighbor gasping for his just a person who faced a nightmare ...and woke up.
last breath. What happens when it’s your turn, or your

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is the sentinel
of our
Does it hurt to die? No! It hurts to live! There’s no fear
guiding or crushing in dying. The fear comes when you realize you didn’t and
somehow you’ll have to pick up the pieces and live again.
Dying is a release from pain, like getting out of prison.
to our Pain for me came before dying and after I returned to life. I
experienced the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life before
my lungs quit breathing and my heart stopped. Upon return-
ing to life, there was constant and continuous pain, though
not in the same degree as before. I was in and out of pain
for a year afterwards. When those various crises were over,
I wound up relearning how to crawl, stand, walk, climb and
run. My task was a total rebuilding because when the near-
death experiences were over, I could no longer think the
same way, hear or even see the same. The belief system I
once had was no longer valid, and I found it impossible to
relate to people in a logical or rational way. Not only did I
have to rebuild my physical body, but I had to restructure
every part of my existence on every level of my being. I was
literally born again, only with the same body as before.
Having the same body makes the rebuilding process harder.
Remodeling an old house takes more time and effort than
tearing the thing down and starting over again.
No one likes to suffer. No one enjoys excruciating pain,
but often as we approach death, we face just that. It’s like
our bodies and brains don’t want to let go of anything famil-
iar. They’re so programmed into living that death is
unthinkable and to give up without a fight is out of the ques-

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A fast, sudden, sharp pain is so encompassing, so total, tomed to. What if life does end at death? What about eter-
that memory is blotted out. Time, space, people, even loved nal hellfire, suffering and damnation? There’s a deep sense
ones no longer exist. The brain becomes so flooded so fast of guilt, so we scream out to God for salvation. Have
with so many messages of pain - it just freaks out and pain mercy! And the fear builds. And the panic comes. We cling
becomes our whole world, not a sensation to “feel.” Love, and grab and hold onto anything and everything within our
hate, fear, anger disappear and all that remains is the pain. grasp.
Such a pain transcends suffering. It’s so total, the slate is
wiped clean. But it doesn’t last. It had a beginning and it Death seems grim and dark so we fight it, and even the
will have an end. That’s one thing we can count on in the pain must take a backseat in our stampede for life. We spend
earthplane. Nothing stays the same. lavish sums of money we don’t have or encumber our fam-
ily’s future. We hire only the best. We endure surgeries,
There are many kinds of pain. It comes in many forms radiation treatments and every kind of torture imaginable all
and packages. But perhaps the hardest of all to deal with is in the name of life. It doesn’t seem to matter how crippled
the insidious gnawing that grows inside of you when you or deformed we wind up, just as long as we’re still alive and
finally realize, even though everything that can possibly be still breathing. All that fear. All that pain. All that money
done to help you has been done, you’re still sick and you and effort. Yet what we’ve really been fighting all along
still hurt and your life is still a mess. The pain of not know- was ourselves and our own ego. Not death. Not really.
ing what else to do or where else to turn or how was the
worst pain of all for me... the ego hurt of losing when you I found death to be a simple shift of consciousness. It
thought you had won, the humiliation of discovering it was was painless, instantaneous and nothing to fear. In fact, it
your own fault, the indescribable anguish of watching a life- felt more natural not to breathe than to breathe. It was won-
time crumble and there’s not one thing you or anyone else derful not to “wear” a body. I had complete mobility, per-
can do to save it. All your strength, all your wits, all the fect memory and knowledge. I was free! I found no fear in
money and help in the world mean nothing. Suddenly dying. The fear came for me when I realized I was still
you’re not only naked but transparent, and there’s nowhere alive, that I didn’t “stay dead.” There is no pain in dying,
to turn and no place to hide and no screaming or cursing that and there’s no darkness either, unless you want it. The other
changes anything. side has a crazy way of being whatever you think it will. If
you expect hell, you’ll find it. If you want meadows and
That’s pain! And it doesn’t go away. Not until you give sunshine, they’ll be there. If all you ever thought about
up and let go, especially of all your attitudes and opinions. while living was liquor, you’ll find all you want; but since
Then and then only does real repair and progress begin. you don’t have a real body anymore, your every grab for a
bottle will be like swatting thin air. You don’t lose your
When we think of death, all too often our first thoughts cravings or addictions in dying, but I found that you do lose
turn to the fear of “Good God, what’s going to happen to your ability to satisfy them. The opportunities that existed
me? Is this all there is to life?” We fear the unknown. We before are no more. That’s where hell begins.
fear: no more controls, no more breathing, no more eating,
no more seeing or drinking or anything else we’re accus- The only difference I found between states of con-

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sciousness was: when you’re breathing, you wear a dense death
form called a body, and when you’re not breathing you sim-
ply wear what you are. Whatever are your attitudes, beliefs, is the
thoughts, ideas, feelings, expectations or apprehensions... beginning
that’s what you’ll wear and that’s what you’ll be. They
become your body and your world. No more games. No life
more secrets. No more lies. No more pretend. No more
coverups. No more copouts. You become what you really is the
In my opinion, that is what is meant by hell. I did not find
hell to be a person, place or thing. I found it to be a condi-
tion of our own creation. We create our own dungeons. We
limit and encase ourselves and then blame it on someone or
something else because it’s easier that way. We stub our
own toes and make our own choices in living. When we die,
we reap our own harvest. The blame game is over.
We all die. It’s part of the natural growth process. Death
doesn’t end anything. It certainly doesn’t end our growing
and learning. It just shifts things around and changes the
scenery. It’s like a doorway, and we float through automat-
ically regardless of our wishes. Kings and truck drivers are
treated the same. No one is too big or too small, too young
or too old, too rich or too poor. Diseased or healthy, ready
or not, when we pass through death’s doorway the stage of
life changes and the script is different.
When your consciousness shifts in death, you’re still
awake, aware and thinking. It’s hard at first to realize you’re
dead. You can still hear, see, feel and talk. Only the way of
that is different because you no longer have a physical body.
Everything for me was bright and clear and totally free. I
never experienced any darkness, but I know you can if you
want to.
You cross over and it’s like catching the next bus - only
the country you visit is like nowhere on Earth!

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floor, entering through the top of the head and pulled down
inside. There was no pain, fear or sense of loss next to the
THE INCREDIBLE lightbulb. Just confusion and questions. Back inside my
body, the pain and fear returned and the lightbulb experi-
WORLD OF THOUGHT ence faded away like some bad dream.
I begged the doctor not to give me a shot. My legs hurt,
I kept saying. Why do my legs hurt so much? My question
There were blobs all around me - shapeless, gray, con- s were ignored, the shot administered and I was sent home
fusing masses. Where did they come from? What were to recover.
they? The more questions I asked, the more confused I The shot worked. Within two hours, the hemorrhaging
became and the more blobs appeared . . . Like corks bob- stopped. Simultaneously the leg pains increased. I was able
bing in water, slowly blocking out my view. to walk fair1y well, but felt weak and dizzy, retiring for bed
This was my first introduction to the world beyond early. I could hardly make it to bed. The next morning was
death’s doorway, a world that was to present me many dif- January 4, 1977. My right thigh was scarlet red with a huge
ferent ways of viewing and countless alternatives to life. lump growing out the right side. I called it a “volcano”
The date was January 2, 1977. The place was Boise, Idaho. because it felt red hot, angry and ready to explode. The pain
My screams did not stop the blood nor catch my body when was unbearable and walking was no longer possible. Before
it fell in a lifeless heap. My memory traveled the distance I could reach the phone to call for help, the pain overcame
from pain, panic and quickly glanced blood to being right my sense of logic and I instinctively fought back, pushing
next to the bathroom lightbulb, bumping into it with the and shoving the lump. It had to go. It was it or me.
ceiling scarcely an eyelash away. The lump won. There was a thin-kind of sound, like some
It all happened so fast.t. One instant I was inside my thing giving way, followed by a detached floating without
body dealing with a crisis, and the next instant I was with- weight. The pain ebbed by as I rose steadily upward, again
out a body floating smack into the bright bulb of light. I stopping at the light fixture, only this time in the living
don’t pretend to understand what happened. I only know it room. I looked down, recognizing the body on the floor as
happened. My space relations and sense of depth and direc- mine. There was no confusion this time. My situation was
tion ended. I could see clearly. There was no darkness. I was clearly defined.
still me. But the me I was kept bumping into that crazy “Good God, I’m dead!”
lightbulb and every time I looked around or wondered what
was going on, blobs would form - gray and strange. Time and space ended for me after gazing for what
seemed endless minutes at my body. It made no movement.
Then as quickly as it had begun, there was an audible There was no breathing. No response. When I was satisfied
“snap” and I was jerked back into the lifeless form on the

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that it was dead, there came a joyous euphoria, like a pris- brass doorknob on the door, a solid strong foundation. The
oner being released from a long jail sentence. I danced and house had to have windows and doors that opened and
danced around the lightbulb, singing like a child. It was closed.
finally over. I was free!
It took what seemed to me incredible energy to focus in
There was never any confusion of identity between “me” this manner, as if I were using muscles I hadn’t used for
and my “body.” The personality of Phyllis Huffman and the some time. I was finally able to accomplish a single focus,
body that encased her were simply parcels of clothing I had then, like a laser, project my image forward into space. In
once worn. They were gone now and the “I” was free. I my mind existed only the house. Soon enough, outside of
experienced pure exhilaration. Soon though, I began to ask me, the house stood, solid, real and fully dimensional. By
myself some questions. Now that I’m dead, what do I do now, the home and life of Phyllis Huffman had faded from
next? Where do I go from here? What am I supposed to do? view and from memory. I was barely cognizant of existing
in another dimension of bright substance yet without color,
As my questions continued, blobs began to form within sound, shape or movement. It was a happy place but devoid
my peripheral vision. Only thiss time, they were clear, of the trappings I had come to associate with humanity and
translucent, pastel bubbles. If I exercised my thought or being a human. My only interest now was the house of
asked a question, more blobs appeared. If I remained quiet, white before me.
nothing happened. A puzzle! So I began to experiment.
Maybe, just maybe, these blobs were manifestations of As near as I could tell, the house was real. I pounded on
thought energy. Maybe they could be controlled and direct- the door and there was the familiar thud of wood. The door-
ed. Most of my life as Phyllis, I had heard phrases like: knob was metal, the windows, glass. Everything opened and
thoughts are things, whatever you think long enough will closed and was full-sized. I was so elated at this event that
come true, thoughts are the blueprints of life, we create our I chose to next create a tree. After all, a house is an inani-
own realities. These statements seemed logical to me, so I mate object. My question now was, could I create an ani-
had long since accepted their value and merit and made mate object? Was that possible? Using the same procedure,
them a part of my personal philosophy. But never before, I chose a tree of many branches and leaves, with a thick
that I can recall, did I ever have an opportunity to actually huge trunk and large protruding roots gnarled by time. And
test the truth of them, to really prove to myself one way or the tree came into being complete with insect holes in its
another just how thoughts work. Now was my chance and I bark.
took it.
I guess it would take someone who had had a similar
My experiment involved focusing all my thoughts and experience to understand what happened next. I simply
energy into one single activity - creating a house. The house flipped out. Something inside of me went - twang! I was
I wanted to think into being was quite specific. It had to be like a kid with a new toy or a child who had discovered how
like a white cube with a steeply pitched roof, a front porch to walk for the first time. I flew into a creation binge with-
with three white pillars, and a green porch floor, a shiny out stops. I created everything I could think of: cities, hous-

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es, people, dogs, cats, telephone wires, trash cans, cars, pure consciousness. Not even light. Beyond light. I simply
schools, churches, children, books, buses, roads, fences, “was.”
grass, flowers, lawns, streams, birds, suns, rain, sound, lan-
guage, breath, motion. Everything existed on its own and I liked that. I came to discover that I did not need forms
became independent of me. There was life and intelligence. like people, buildings, worlds or anything solid or secure to
And the whole event so filled me with pleasure, I just be happy and fulfilled. I was completely at peace, satisfied,
watched and watched some more. There it was. Creation! I loved and totally real by being nothing at all and existing in
didn’t feel like God. I just felt tired. But I began to realize I no particular place. I discovered I didn’t need time or space.
was like a co-creator, made with the same abilities as That I didn’t need the illusions of substance. I was everything yet
Which Existed Beyond Me. Thoughts really are energy that I was nothing. Shapeless, formless, soundless, colorless,
can be shaped and used according to our choices. It really without motion. Nothing was with me, yet everything that
works. I had my proof. was known or could ever be was there. This was perfection.

As I watched and listened with loving pleasure, it And into this great peace that I had become there came
occurred to me to see again my loved ones who had passed the life of Phyllis parading past my view. Not as in a movie
on before. No sooner had I expressed the thought than they theatre, but rather as a reliving. Had it been a reliving of just
were all there - including a grandfather who had died before deeds done, it would have been as expected because I had
my Phyllis personality was ever born. Talk about a thrill! It heard of that before. But for me it was far more involved.
was pure joy to visit again with each one and especially to The reliving included not only the deeds committed by
touch and speak with the grandfather who had left the col- Phyllis since her birth in 1937 in Twin Falls, Idaho, but also
orations of his philosophy behind for his family to use and a reliving of every thought ever thought and every word
continue. Then I thought about Jesus and he came. ever spoken PLUS the effect of every thought, word and
deed upon everyone and anyone who had ever come within
There was never any feeling or need to worship him. No her sphere of influence whether she actually knew them or
awe or fear. Rather, it was a feeling of seeing a beloved not PLUS the effect of her every thought, word and deed
elder brother after being apart for so long. I had always upon the weather, the air, the soil, plants and animals, the
wanted to thank him for the example he set for me to fol- waters, everything else within the creation we call Earth and
low, and I took full advantage of his visit to do just that. It the space Phyllis once occupied.
was a time of treasured friendship and much gratitude. He
was my brother and I loved him. Then he left. My loved It was a gestalt experience, meaning complete and whole
ones left as well. on all levels, a total viewing and reliving of the totality of
one woman’s life complete with all the ripples and conse-
After that, I grew tired of the world I had created so I quences of her ever having lived. I had no idea a past-life
thought it all away. It disappeared instantly. Now was the review could be like this. I never before realized that we
first time I ever looked at myself. Much to my surprise, I were responsible and accountable for EVERY SINGLE
had no body or form whatever. I was simply pure energy, THING WE DID. That was overwhelming.

Page Twenty-two Page Twenty-three

It was me judging me, not some heavenly St. Peter. And could produce. But I did. My job was on the second floor of
my judgment was critical and stern. I was not satisfied with an old building without an elevator, and the climb up the
many, many things Pphyllis had done, said or thought. stairs proved to be a painful mountain. I fell more than I
There was a feeling of sadness and failure, yet a growing climbed. When my boss saw me, she shrieked I looked
feeling of joy when the realization came that Phyllis had more dead than alive and insisted I see a doctor at once.
always done SOMETHING. She did many things unworthy With her help a specialist was found and I was committed
and negative, but she did something. She tried. Much of to his care. He just shook his head in amazement that I had
what she did was constructive and positive. She learned and ever survived, and the long ordeal of getting well and redis-
grew in her learning. This was satisfying. Phyllis was okay. covering the earthplane began.
As the joy within me grew, the room in Boise, Idaho, I was to go through yet one more bizarre death experi-
reappeared and the body below came into focus. As I ence before this would be over, and the resulting struggle to
looked down upon the body that had once been Phyllis, regain my health would take nearly two years, curtailing a
there came a wave of love and forgiveness, and with it rebuilding program that would start at the beginning,
worlds of sparklers like on the Fourth of July. Upon a relearning how to crawl. The third experience would occur
stream of these sparklers, I floated ever so gently back into on March 29th, more than two months away. After its pas-
the lifeless body, entering through the top of the head. Back sage, I would be left little more than a functional creature,
to the pain. Locked back up again inside the prison called a lost between worlds I could no longer comprehend.
body. The whole experience seemed like years in length,
but it could not have taken more than a few minutes. Yet I Fortunately for me, a very unique and capable doctor
don’t really know. Clocks were a foreign thought then. came to my rescue along with some of the dearest and truest
Afterwards, instead of continuing to the phone to call for friends any human being could have. With their constant
help, I was in such a dazed stupor nothing mattered any love, care and patience, my recovery would be amazingly
more. I was so caught up in what had just happened, I was swift and complete. It wouldd be nearly a year later before
unable to relate to anything, even the pain in my legs, so I I would begin to integrate what had happened to me and
crawled back to bed and lay there like a zombie for several what I had seen and experienced. It took a professor of
days. Seeking help didn’t make sense. Living didn’t make physics to rekindle my self-confidence and revive the word,
sense. In fact, nothing made any kind of sense. “faith.”

Several days later, it took the random thoughts of money,

pay checks and my job to jolt any life into me. I was so
detached my children were foreign objects and the bed
where I lay seemed a figment of my imagination. How I
was able to dress and safely drive my car to work is beyond
my comprehension. But I did. It took effort I did not think I

Page Twenty-four Page Twenty-five


I have no way of knowing how many of you relate to

handicapped or injured people, those souls undergoing
rehabilitation at whatever level for whatever reason for
however long. I just know this - it’s pure hell to rebuild your
body and your mind.

No matter how much progress you make, it’s never

enough and it’s never fast enough. No matter how slight the
injury or disease or how complicated the setback, rebuild-
ing is no picnic. It’s torture! Words of praise and encourage
ment from friends and loved ones often register within your
there are being as superficial bandaids. And who the hell needs
bandaids when you’re exploding inside! The do-gooders
and the mean-wellers become sources of more pain, and
fetters you feel anger and even jealousy because they’re whole and
you’re not, and who are they to say what they say anyway.
to limit the mind
All the help that comes is never enough. Prayers fall flat.
Following the two physical death experiences I lived
those that are through during January of 1977, I was left confused and
desperate. I was living in Boise, Idaho, at the time and still
had my two daughters at home. They were aware of my ill-
and ness but neither could relate to it. Their image of “Mother”
was that of the Rock of Gibraltar . . . a mother who could do
anything, accomplish anything, strong, self-reliant, inde-
featable. You never have to worry about mother. So they
Page Twenty-six Page Twenty-seven
didn’t. We interfaced to the extent of daily chores and con- arc across my chest. Each character was fully dimensional
versation, but little else. This was the image of a mother I and suspended in space, alive and animated, deeply
had carefullyy cultivated for them throughout their lives. engrossed in his or her own private activities and concerns.
How could they respond any differently? The eldest girl Like tiny people, the characters walked on by and events
was in college. The youngest in junior high. My son and were played out. The arc was like a rainbow and each fig-
oldest of the three was half-way across the globe studying ure was like a hologram. I watched with gaping mouth and
aboard a square-rigger in the Atlantic Ocean. I was transfixed gaze.
employed as a bank analyst. Because of the illness and dis-
It was all too incredible to believe. Yet there they were.
ability that followed, I was forced to take a leave of absence
I witnessed life after life after life. They seemed without
from work and begin a program of medication, doctor care,
end until there came to view a tall, slender, green, lizard-
and much rest and exercise.
like being from another world beyond Earth ––a being from
I was put on a drug classified as “dangerous” because it a water planet, alone and lost in a world he did not under-
could only be used seven days safely without destroying stand, dying in fire from his own choice. I felt complete
precious blood cells. There could be no refills. Food had to identification with this alien. He fascinated me.
be consumed before it was taken on a round-the-clock basis.
After the marching hordes ceased, another phenomenon
I was virtually bed-fast and incapable of the kind of activi-
occurred. I could both see and hear my own body cells. It
ty my life had been based upon. My meals were prepared by
was as if my body was transparent and my eyes were micro-
others. I was almost helpless. Yet at no time was I ever hos-
scopes. Especially throughout the female organs and the
pitalized. For the greater part of each day I was alone, lis-
right leg and hip. There were millions of them, but I could
tening to the hours click by.
hear and see each individually. They were like armies com-
Alone and dangerous drugs. An almost lethal combina- plete with Generals and Captains and all manner of rank
tion, yet it allowed my mind and life force free rein and and file. They were massing their forces to fight off the
unrestricted expression. Had I been hospitalized I would invader and rebuild damaged parts. Those in charge were
have undoubtedly healed faster, but then I would have shouting audible orders to others and they all seemed tense
missed some of the most bizarre events any human being and worried.
could know.
I felt so sorry for the little fellas that I decided to contact
Perhaps it was the medication. I don’t really know. them and apologize for all the hardships I had inflicted u
Strange things began to happen. As I lay on the sofa each upon them. Never before did I ever have any idea micro-
day, there began to parade past my view all the characters scopic cells were intelligent personalities, beings of their
from all my past lives, one right after another, forming an own. I didn’t know if I could speak with them, but I want-

Page Twenty-eight Page Twenty-nine

ed to. Desire is a powerful force. The communication I sucked, pounded and exorcised. People I’d never heard of
wanted happened instantly, so I conveyed my apologies. A practiced incantations and rituals I’d never seen. Healers
dialogue ensued and I came to form a deep and abiding came out of the woodwork, all meaning well, and all sin-
respect for my cells. I came to understand we truly can con- cerelyy trying to help.
verse with ALL our body parts. We can understand their
They couldn’t. Because I didn’t accept them. I didn’t trust
anyone any more. The healings wouldn’t work because the
AGAINST THEM. We are a team, they and I. We’re in this
faith I once had crumbled. Nothing worked because nothing
made sense. I was functional. I was still human. I talked. I
I was overwhelmed by the experience. The unswerving lived, but I wasn’t all there. I was still “dead,” and slowly a
loyalty and unselfish devotion of these tiny cells humbled black depression began to build inside of me.
me beyond words and struck me with awe. I just had no idea
The two months leading to March 29th are a blur across
anything like this was true.
my brain. I don’t remember too much of it. I do remember
As if all this were not enough, for the entire seven days I my landlord picked that time to raise my rent higher than I
took the drug I could not distinguish between a person’s could pay. I do remember all the endless hours and days of
audible words and their inaudible thoughts. I “heard” them exercise paid off because I could stand without effort and
both at the same pitch and tone. I couldn’t tell which to walk reasonably well, though I still dragged my right leg
respond to. The sounds and messages overlapped and con- somewhat. Some incredibly beautiful people gathered
flicted most times which led to even deeper confusion. It round, another rental was found, and I was properly
made no difference who the person was or under what con- packed, moved and neatly tucked into a bright little house
ditions. Their thoughts and their words were both clearly on the other end of town. I wasn’t there long before death
audible. Because of this, I often did not reply to people, came to call a third time, and again I was alone.
choosing rather to remain silent.
I won’t argue that the move was too much for me or that
Around me were all the objects I had known in life: fur- the responsibilities of how to pay mounting debts were too
niture, roads, cars, people, television sets, music, food, much for me to bear. Though I appeared coherent, my inner
water, clothes, money, telephones, and so forth. Yet they all world was chaos. Life faded more with each passing day. I
seemed so foreign and unreal. Friends and relatives came to was able to return to work, working half days at first and
visit. Words of help and encouragement were given. then progressing to 3/4 days and finality full time. Instead
Healings of every kind imaginable were administered. I was of helping, this only led to more depression as my job made
prayed on, for, under, on top of. no more sense to me than my life. I didn’t have the money
for the kind of rehabilitation I would have liked to have, so
I was laid on “of hands,” stretched, squeezed, burped,

Page Thirty Page Thirty-one

I improvised. I reached out into different arenas and alter- Yet at that moment, he suddenly addressed his friends and
natives. I was very frightened, but there seemed to be no announced that he must leave and go home. His mother
other way. needed him. When he arrived, he discovered the body but
made no attempt to seek help. To understand his reaction,
My son returned suddenly from his school cruise around
one must realize that in our house members were always
Europe. On the night of March 29th, he was attending a
taught to be self-sufficient. It was drummed in from gener-
party. He had been home 1 1/2 days. My daughters were off
ations back that you never, never asked for help - ever. You
to their friends for overnight excursions. A man I had once
find a way to take care of yourself. Also one needs to know
thought myself in love with came to call. In tears, I told him
that in our house the children were taught from earliest
what I had been through and begged him to hold me and just
years to always follow their “feelings.” Psychic occurrences
let me be a child again. I asked for no more than that. He
were so common to all of us they were perfectly natural,
was an understanding man I felt I could trust. His response
like breathing. Kelly’s “feelings” at that time were to sit
was a loud and immediate no, whereby he jumped up,
opposite the body and start talking. He did. A flow of sound
slammed the door and left. I could not understand his
was created by his words.
response. I had asked for so little. Never in my life had I
ever turned down anyone who needed help, regardless of Before he had arrived, I was long since gone, ascending
the conditions or inconveniences to me. Yet in my moment into a realm of bright light and unusual music like nothing
of desperation, I was shut out. His no thundered throughout I had experienced before. That’s no small statement for me
my being. to make since I had been a meditator and teacher of expand-
ed thinking for many years and had countless encounters
I exploded inside. An emotional bomb went off and I
with astral travel, white lights and altered states of con-
shattered into millions of pieces. To hell with life I decided.
sciousness. I was always the practical one, saying, ‘’If you
It’s the most damnable, oversold, worthless package there
can’t use it in your daily life to make your world better, then
is. I decided to chuck it. It wasn’t worth living. I committed
it isn’t worth fooling with.” For me, practical application
emotional suicide. I willed myself dead and my body was
was always the measuring stick to judge anything.
too pooped to argue. It collapsed. I left.
None of that mattered now. All that mattered was where
Now I know full well bodies aren’t supposed to do that.
I was, and where I was, was like nowhere I had ever been
But mine did. I knew the other side was better than this one
before. It was everything wonderful, bright and beautiful,
and I saw no reason to continue living. Mv children were
everything that could ever be.
old enough to take care of themselves. They didn’t need me.
I didn’t need me either. It was time to go, so I did. Then I stopped short. I didn’t expect to see anything,
much less the gigantic scene I saw. Before my view there
My son who loves a good party is not one to up and leave.

Page Thirty-two Page Thirty-three

spun two objects I’ll call cyclones for lack of a better word. upper one. They were reflections of each other. As above,
One was big at the top, narrowing to a spout. The other was so below.
inverted directly below, being big on the bottom and com-
Fascinating as this was, my attention soon turned to the
ing up to a spout. They formed an hourglass shape, yet the
middle. That’s where I wanted to go, into it and through it.
two spouts did not meet in the middle. Instead, there radiat-
I felt as if it were the doorway to God. At last I would dis-
ed out from that spot a kind of light I hesitate to call light. I
cover the source of God Itself. I was on my way there.
don’t know what to call it. The English language doesn’t
have such a word. Its rays shot out in all directions. It was then that I heard my son’s sounds. Slowly I found
myself being pulled back. I never heard any words, only the
I was suspended near the middle as I gazed in awe at the
sound of his voice. There was something different about it.
immensity of what towered before me. Both cyclones were
There was love in his voice. A different kind of love. It was
spinning at tremendous speeds. The cyclone on the top was
not the love of a son for his mother. It was something new
spinning clockwise. The one on the bottom was spinning
- at least for me. It was the sound of one human being lov-
counter-clockwise. Inside the upper cone, I glanced a tiny
ing another human being because he wanted to, not because
grain of sand I recognized to be me - or the Phyllis I had
he was expected to. It didn’t even matter if the other person
once been. Superimposed over Phyllis and the life she was
loved back. The only thing that mattered was Kelly giving
living was all her past and future lives. Everything was hap-
love freely because Kelly wanted to. His love was open,
without any expectations, restrictions or standards. It was
also recognized others around Phyllis and the same thing
unconditional love. Real love!
was happening to them. I saw multitudes of other people
everywhere inside the cone and the same thing was hap- I really didn’t believe that special kind of love existed on
pening to all of them. I felt like I was viewing all of life and the earth-plane. I had heard of it before but had associated
I came to realize time and space do not exist at all. it with Divine or Saintly revelations. It was happening now
and my son was giving it. Such a precious gift was worthy
I saw no movements that raised or lowered, went back-
of being received. I choose to return and live again. There
wards or forwards, no left or right. What I saw was only
were no angels, or anyone else egging me along. I made the
expansion and contraction. No one was greater or less than
conscious choice and when I did, the cyclones disappeared
anyone else, but some people were expanded out and grow-
and my living room returned. I slipped back into my body,
ing more, others were so contracted they seemed to shrink
entering again through the top of the head.
and wither. As I searched for more clues to life, I noticed
Phyllis was also in the cyclone on the bottom and in the This time, my body did not respond. It felt cooler and
exact same position as on the top, and everyone else was strange. I panicked. Instantly I became a tiny cheerleader
there too. The bottom cyclone was a mirror image of the and game coach, scurrying up and down my frame shouting

Page Thirty-four Page Thirty-five

words like: hey team I’m back, wake up everyone, I’m back doctor and a different kind of medicine - naturopathy and
now, I’m sorry I did this to you. I won’t do it again, I’m homeopathy and whole vistas of therapy and alternatives.
really back to stay this time, come on everyone, I’m back. The rebuilding process took almost two years and involved
several health reversals and crises. It’s never easy to remod-
The air sacs in the lungs were the hardest to activate. It
el a worn-out body. Pain becomes a daily encounter.
took real effort to get the bellows to expand. With the first
Depression a daily enemy. Medication of any kind a daily
sweep of breath, my consciousness returned to my head
area and my eyes opened. My first desire was to stand to see
if everything was awake and operational. I had to be certain The first week of November, 1977, my friends obtained
the team was back together. After many halting motions, I permission from my doctor to drive me to Seattle,
was able to stand. Washington, to attend the “MIND MIRACULOUS SYM-
POSIUM” put on by the Church of Religious Science in the
Kelly in his greater wisdom, came to me, wrapped his
Seattle Opera House. Guest speakers were people like Uri
large arms around me and let me cry. I couldn’t speak, but I
Geller, Dr. Brugh Joy, Dr. Lawrence LeShan, Dr. Elisabeth
could cry. I cried buckets. Torrents. Then Kelly spoke and
Kübler- Ross, and Dr. William Tiller. With an early-morn-
reminded me of a letter I had written him that February. The
ing injection, a bag of medication-like remedies and the ten-
cruise school was not as he had hoped and the costs were
der care of very special friends, I arrived perky, looking
excessively high. He was in a state of depression. My letter
every inch a functional human being.
arrived when he needed it most, and in it I had spoken of
life as a school and how we’re all students progressing The first lecture paid for the trip and told me why I was
through the grades according to our ability until we finally there. It was given by Dr. William Tiller, a physicist with
graduate and cease our earthly existence. The letter had Stanford University in California. His topic was THE
given him courage to continue the trip and get on with his ETERNAL NOW, and he illustrated his talk by having his
life. graphs and drawings projected onto a huge stage screen. He
described at length what he felt the greater reality to be, that
As he held me close, he returned those words to me and
what we really are is an energy mass and how that energy
I saw a circle close. The same words I sent half-way around
worked. The climax of his talk came when he spoke of The
the globe to help a soul in deepest need, returned to me in
Eternal Now, what he felt it looked like and how it func-
my darkest hour, and I “heard” them and I understood. I
tioned. It was his belief that ALL THINGS HAPPENED AT
realized the words were a confirmation of my choice to
return and live. I could rebuild my life. Life really was
flashed on the screen was of two cyclones inverted over
worth living and I could make it. Kelly put me to bed that
each other, and where the two spouts should have met, there
night and the next day I committed myself to a very special
radiated an immense light shooting out in all directions.

Page Thirty-six Page Thirty-seven

I erupted from my chair. He saw it too. He knew about There’s a lot more to life than I had ever realized and
the cyclones! I wasn’t crazy after all! I wasn’t mad! I didn’t the learning continues. Life for me is happier now, freer
hallucinate! It was all real! I really saw it! What happened than before and filled to overflowing with constant mira-
to me was valid ! I was sane! cles. The road back to health is really the larger story, and
the one I am now committed to write.
That moment skyrocketed my health and did more for me
than any doctor or medicine or therapy ever could. My con-
fidence in myself returned like a tidal wave and I could
laugh again. I was okay! The nightmare was over!

The road back to health involved a new education for me.

I learned what wholeness and balance truly are. I learned
who and what I am and how to live more abundantly. I dis-
covered myself and in the process discovered everyone else
around me and whole new layers to life.

I came to realize that life is really a series of echoes upon

itself and once energy is committed to movement, it will
always form a spiral. I saw that the choices we daily make
become the points of contact for forming more echoes
which form more spiraling cones. In looking back at the
scene of the two cyclones, I honestly felt like I was looking
at a giant echo. When I allow my mind to wander the words
from the Chapter of John in the Christian Bible come to me,
“For in the beginning was the Word.” Word to me means
sound, and sound creates spiraling echoes of movement
which activate the first steps in the process of forming pre-
substance, then substance itself. Then words from the sci-
entists return to me with their theory of creation starting
with a big bang. Bang to me is sound. The scientists and the
religionists are all saying the same thing. It all ties together
and life begins to make a different kind of sense.

Page Thirty-eight Page Thirty-nine


If you have trouble believing this story, it’s okay. Be my

guest. I’ll bet I had more trouble believing it than you ever
will, and I was living it.

When something happens, no matter what it is, that total-

ly changes or obliterates any thought or belief we hold dear
or accept as truth, the result is often numbing confusion, a
deep sense of loss. Instead of facing the challenge we were
given and working our way through it, we become, instead,
depressed, sick or filled with denials lest anyone think
we’re crazy. It’s so much easier to continue on as before, as
if nothing had ever happened, professing the same beliefs,
walking the same path. We’re not sure of ourselves, and we
can’t stand to risk any thought of embarrassment, to be
found a fool. We say nothing. And we block any opportuni-
ty to change.

It was like that for awhile.

But you know, the memory of it wouldn’t go away. It just
floats freely kept getting larger, brighter, bigger each day. I’d be at work
minding my own business and it would all come back. I’d
be home sleeping and it would all happen again. I’d be talk-
the wings of time ing to one of my daughters and as I looked into her face I’d
see the cyclones. It almost drove me mad.
What do you do about something like that? Who do you
tell? Who’ll believe you? Who’d really care anyhow.
Sometimes I’d speak of some of it, but I could tell from the

Page Forty Page Forty-one

people’s faces, it was a story beyond any meaning for them. investment. No, it didn’t solve the problem, and, no, all the
Oh, it was a good-enough story and I was a good storyteller, scars didn’t magically disappear, but it was a beginning - for
but the story itself was just too far-fetched to ring of truth. both of us, a beginning of mutual respect and hope.
Obviously, I was still sick. After all, Phyllis was always a
The feeling of failure in trying to provide a stable base
little weird anyway.
and some form of discipline and love for her almost killed
Getting well, however, was something everyone could me a fourth time. I couldn’t do it. There wasn’t enough of
relate to, but the way I went about it was almost as unbe- me left. There’s no blame to be laid here, on her or me. We
lievable as the story of how I got sick to begin with, and so each had our own nightmares and we each were groping for
it went. My commitment, though, was to get well. Come a way out, some point of understanding what was happen-
hell or high water, that’s exactly what I was going to do. I ing to us and why.
didn’t care what other people thought. I didn’t care how
As it turned out, my youngest daughter became one of my
long it took. I was going to get well. I was going to be whole
very best teachers, showing me through the mirrors of her
again. And I was so obsessed with this commitment, I
eyes that I could forgive myself. I had truly done all I could
almost forgot to look around and see who else was with me.
for her. I had done my best. All any parent can ever do is to
My son had joined the Coast Guard and was long gone. My
raise their children to the best of their ability, provide what
eldest daughter was so busy playing games with college
they can, give them love, hope, a sense of identity and
life, she seldom emerged long enough to say hello. But my
belonging. The rest is up to each child. They have their own
youngest daughter, still in the throes of dealing with the
muscles, their own brains, their own life, their own choices.
divorce of my former husband and myself, was in deep
We can do only so much. More is wrong. It cripples them.
trouble and sinking. She could never understand any form
When I finally learned to let go of what I thought to be my
of illness or pain. Even stubbing her toe freaked her out.
failures and despair and accept instead my worth and my
Standing there watching a once strong mother turn to jelly
success, I began to make large strides toward regaining my
before her very eyes proved to be too much for her to han-
health. Interestingly enough, once I did that, my youngest
dle. She broke down, turning on a binge of sex, drugs,
daughter was then free to make progress too - at her own
booze, ditching school and Iying. She went half-crazy.
pace, in her own way, without a frightened mother suffocat-
Reaching out to her when I could hardly even help myself ing her with worry and guilt. Body building or rebuilding
turned out to be the hardest task of all. There were days must always be accompanied by mind building or the result
when the only logical sentence I could utter was the sen- won’t last. No matter what the illness or problem, we must
tence, “God is,” and I’d say it over and over and over again, each do our own homework. No one can cure us. No one.
hour after hour, like a chant. It kept me going. It kept me We cure ourselves when we wake up to our own destructive
sane. I finally took classes from a psychologist in how to attitudes. Only then can healing begin and others help as
speak to her, how to reach her. It worked. It was a good nature intended.

Page Forty-two Page Forty-three

In mid-July, 1978, a strange event occurred. I was almost was too impossible to believe. For instance I was told that I
recovered, had returned from vacationing with my aunt and would attend a week-long intensive class with Dr. Elisabeth
uncle in Chicago, and was seated at my desk at work busi- Kübler-Ross on Death and Dying. Over six months ago, I
ly working on an analytical project. I shared the room with had finally given up ever being able to attend such a class.
two other analysts and a secretary. Nearby were two bank They were always overbooked and the waiting lists were
officers. Suddenly my desk, the room, the walls, all the peo- “miles” long. When I called to see if it was possible I could
ple - everything disappeared. I was back in that “nothing” attend, I found to my utter amazement and shock, I was
world I had visited in death, a world filled with sparkling already registered complete with my full address which
life with the purest of love and perfection, yet a world could not possibly have been known since I had just bought
where nothing was, nothing moved, nothing made a sound. a house and had never at any time contacted the people in
I had come to call it “The Void” or the “Realm of Non” for California I was calling now, nor did the secretary I had
lack of better names. once talked with in Illinois ever have anything but my
phone number. I never found out how I was registered. It
Immediately there came a message. Not really like a mes- seems my name and address just suddenly “appeared” on
sage. More of a living, seeing, feeling, knowing, being kind their registration lists. The other phone calls I made netted
of thing. A gestalt message, meaning complete and whole the same remarkable results. It was like some kind of dream
on all levels at the same time. There was no difference only I was wide awake.
between me, the message and where the message came
from. We were all the same thing. We were all one. During Among the things revealed in the message were: I would
the occurrence, I became aware of all my next movements, quit my job on a certain date, sell my house (which I had
choices and happenings for the year to come. All were only owned nine months), sell or give away almost every-
played out in detail. When it was over, my desk, the room thing I owned, would stay with friends until time to go,
and all its occupants returned, each in their proper place as would attend Elisabeth’s classes, wind my way across the
if nothing had happened. My mouth fell open and I was United States fulfilling childhood vows of places I had
shaking all over. The message ended and everything hap- always wanted to visit and things I had always wanted to
pening within it became past tense. The year to come had do, stay with cousins in Reston, Virginia for a brief time,
already been lived. What I remembered became like a script find a job in Washington, D.C., live in and around Falls
I was challenged to perform in conscious life on the public Church, Virginia. The next message would come in the
“stage.” spring.

Well, being a great believer in choice, I grabbed my Now, I’m a Western woman. Denver, Colorado, is just
phone and began to check out some parts of the message about as far East as my mind traveled at that time. Anything
that could be verified. I wasn’t about to believe just any- East of Denver was in another country, not part of the
thing I was handed, and most of what I had been handed United States. If I moved anywhere it would be West not

Page Forty-four Page Forty-five

East! After the phone calls, I began to do some deep think- through, become rich and famous, and be whisked away by
ing and finally decided to accept the message and act out the some knight on a white charger. I guess we’re never too old
part. It didn’t make any sense but that was okay. I was get- to dream such dreams.
ting used to things that didn’t make any sense. It seemed the
After many trials and false-starts, the dream wore off, I
more far-out and ridiculous something was, the more sensi-
stepped out of the clouds, and my magic flying carpet nose-
ble it appeared. My mind and my world were reversing.
dived. The earth world of jobs, money, food, grocery bills,
That afternoon, I had an appointment with my boss to dis- rent, debts and loans loomed large and I panicked, grabbing
cuss my future at the bank where I worked. I was in line for at whatever I could find. I lost my bearings and the guid-
some major career advancements. When I informed her of ance went sour. Though I did do some writing, the book
my decision to quit and “chase rainbows” for awhile, she project was abandoned. The long string of men I dated only
turned chalk white, asked me to say not another word and served to disillusion me about ever marrying again. All
sit down. She then relayed to me a startling dream she had seemed lost. My thought then was to hang my “tail”
had that morning at 4:00 a.m. So vivid was the dream she between my legs, admit my lunacy, and head back West.
awakened her husband to tell him. In the dream, she had
From the words of two dear friends, Diane Pike and
seen herself go to her boss, take him by the arm and Say,
Arleen (OSO) Lorrence (who founded, live and teach the
“Phyllis is leaving. She’s moving away. I must replace
Phyllis.” All I could think of at that moment was to pound
Scottsdale, AZ 85267), came the simple phrase: BE THE
her desk and shout, “That’s not fair. You knew I was leav-
ing before I did!” My decision had been reached at 1:30
words literally. They worked. I became the change I want-
p.m. that day. The message had not come until around 9:30
ed to see happen in my life instead of turning tail and run-
that morning.
Life has been like that ever since. Everything is so dif-
My life turned around abruptly. My income base
ferent now. Nothing in my brain works as it used to. What
smoothed out. Many bills got paid. Job satisfaction sky-
once made sense makes no sense now. What made no sense
rocketed. All the joyful, daily miracles that had once filled
before, is perfectly clear and logical. Everything happened
my life returned. And when least expected on a day heavy
as the “script” revealed, and in the spring of 1979, the sec-
with the coming of rain, I met the man I would marry while
ond message revealed a move to Roanoke, Virginia, where
out hiking alone upon a deserted country road. I just turned
I would meet the man I would marry. Sounds like some-
around and there he was. We had briefly met once before,
thing out of CINDERELLA, but I dutifully moved and
but the meeting had never “registered” with me. He wasn’t
found a home with two of heaven’s most wonderful angels,
the kind of man I had been looking for. He was better! So
Don and Neddy Repp. I moved with the idea I would write
perfect were we each for the other, that we merged and
a best selling book about the death experiences I had lived

Page Forty-six Page Forty-seven

blended, fulfilling each other’s dreams and hopes. The I never meant my life to be that way. I just wanted to be
“jackets” (our bodies) we wear in this life are different col- the best wife and mother I could. I was married then to a
ors and we come from different generations and lifestyles. good man who had problems of his own but wouldn’t stay
Still, we mirror each other and in doing so have taught each home long enough to face them. We were always broke so
other that opposites are really complements. Two equal I had to work. One tragedy stacked up upon another, year
halves are really a whole. We were married in Roanoke, after year after year. A nervous breakdown called a halt to
Virginia on April 29, 1980 at 11:00 p.m., near to the com- my life then, painting black the days that followed. God
ing of the Full Moon. The Full Moon has become a symbol must surely be dead, I thought, for I had been the best pos-
to us that opposites, though powerful energies, are really of sible person I knew to be and all that ever resulted were
the same unity, and so we were married in a Unity Church. more debts, more tragedies and more pain. It took the lure
of parapsychology and metaphysics to awaken me to count-
I don’t know why all this happened to me like it did - or less dimensions and levels to the human soul, and show me
even at all. I can play guessing games about that, but the that God was very much alive and well and kicking.
truth is I really don’t know. I could write reams of books
about the death experience, what it taught me, about coping In reaching out to the new and different, success came on
with the East and the move here, and rediscovering life. I’m top of success. Life became exciting and wonderful.
not certain if it matters that I ever write anything at all. We Everything I tried worked. My world filled with creative,
each have our own dreams that become nightmares. We unusual people. The old limits and standards fell away. I
each meet our own hell and fight our own battles. It doesn’t began to see life differently and be honest about what I saw.
take any talent to die. We all die, all the time. There are so The old illusions died too, and so did my marriage. It had
many different kinds of death and ways to die. We each lasted twenty years.
sooner or later play the part of St. George and the Dragon,
I had just begun a program of retraining, attending my
as we each must face the “dragons” we’ve created in our
first college class with eyes toward a degree, when death
own lives and “slay” them or perish.
came to call. So very final and total. But it didn’t stay. When
I call what I went through the “Heavenly Sledgehammer death left, the me that remained was lost. I credit Dr.
Effect.” I was just too stubborn to turn around, to change as William G. Reimer of Ontario, Oregon (then of Boise,
I needed to, to see what I needed to see. I had become a doer Idaho) with physically enabling my body to heal. Without
of the first order, driven to accomplish, always dealing with his expert, if unorthodox, care I would not have the degree
outer influences, moving mountains because it never of health and mobility I have today. I credit Tom Huber,
occurred to me to live any other way. My biography wound Elizabeth and Terry Macinata, all then of Boise, with giving
up in more books than I care to mention, with a string of me the emotional and mental support and assistance that
awards longer than my arm. You can’t eat awards, and hon- kept me going - giving far beyond what any ordinary peo-
ors and recognitions don’t keep you warm at night. ple would give, sharing so deeply and intensely that some-

Page Forty-eight Page Forty-nine

times we all hurt and we all cried.

f you’re looking for a guru or religious figure, please
keep looking. I respect your quest, but I choose not to
But most of the credit I give to God, The Force, The One, be a part of it. Mine is the practical inner way - the path
The All (whatever name you wish to call It) with simply of balance and joy.
being What It Is and giving me the space and time to find
myself and discover Its Light within me. I get excited about dishwater and home-baked bread. I
find the soft touch of a baby, the warmth of a loved one, the
I know now why I couldn’t write the book I originally wrinkled hands of the old and tired more enlightening to me
planned. Goodness knows it would have all the blood and than chants, aura photography or becoming a master soul.
guts necessary for sales, though it would have to have been
sold as ‘fiction” as no one in their right mind would ever I take personal responsibility for me . . . and what I have
have identified it with any kind of truth. Nonetheless, its builded myself to be. I can’t blame that on anyone else and
publication would have hurt many people. A doctor could be honest, so I don’t. I am what I have made of my genetic
have been accused of malpractice. A man could have been code, environment and life’s experiences. I affirm the divin-
ity of choice, and when something goes wrong in my life, I
damned for life for his negligence. A whole list of well-
know just where to locate the cause - in what I see reflect-
meaning and beautiful people could have been needlessly
ed back from my mirror.
embarrassed. I began to recognize a powerful force at work
wanting that book. It’s called ego. The book would have Life is so beautiful. So am I. So are you. We are the same
sold well, but what of the price to others? you and I. And you honor me by being here. I cannot teach
you or change you. No one can. You do that for yourself. I
Because of this realization and the steady requests for can only share where I’ve been and what that’s taught me.
something written down, I came up with this little book. It If you can understand what I say and find meaning for your
tells most of the facts as they happened. Enough that should life in that, then we are both richly blessed.
inspire or challenge anyone who reads it. I borrowed the
money to have it printed. Its distribution will be through I believe myself to be a Child of God, an individualized
word of mouth, mailing lists, some announcements and ads. focus of The All. I believe that everything is spirit, every-
It will “float” around as it needs to, and those who should thing is One . . . and that all my choices interact with all of
read it, will. I’ve come to realize finally that everything yours. No one is an island. We are each part of the other. I
happens as it should when it’s time. believe that balance and wholeness are the secrets of life.

It’s just a little book, anyway. A tale of one woman who There’s no difference, really, between a bowel movement
and a vision, between scrubbing floors and praying,
faced herself and decided to change what she saw. So she
between balancing your checkbook and praising God. It’s
did . . .
all the same energy from the same Source. The only differ-
ence is how we choose to manifest that energy at any given

Page Fifty Page Fifty-one

moment in time and space.
And no matter what anyone tells me, no matter what is
written or believed by anyone, including me . . . I’ve dis-
covered there is more. And beyond that there’s more still.
There’s no end to the mores and no end to our potential for
growth and development.
Thank you so much for touching my life . . . and allow-
ing me to touch yours!

The former Phyllis Huffman was born in 1937 in Twin

Falls, Idaho. She is the mother of three grown children. This
photo was taken by Don Repp in his home outside of
Roanoke, Virginia, during May, 1979. Phyllis is now
P. M. H. Atwater, having married Terry Young Atwater and
beginning a new chapter in her life.

Page Fifty-two Page Fifty-three

Tape and Book Order Form P.M.H. Atwater, Lh.D.
Intuitive Counselor/Visionary Author
Title/Price Quant. Cost
“Children of the New Millennium”
Contains the “missing” appendices.
P.O.Box 7691
(Self-Published) Charlottesville, VA 22906-7691
*$50.00 - Bound, Manuscript Syle
“ Brain Shift/Spirit Shift: Send completed form
A Theoretical Model Using Research on and your payment
Near-Death Studies to Explore the to the above address
Transformation of Consciousness “
Phase I of Brain Shift is sold out and will
F ind the rest of P. M. H. Atwater's
books at your favorite bookstore, or order
not be reprinted. *directly online (through Amazon.Com):
Phase II can be purchased and downloaded
directly from the website.
"COMING BACK TO LIFE" ISBN 0-345-36016-8
*$20.00 - Reissue of her first book, (paperback, Ballantine Books)
"I Died Three Times in 1977"
"BEYOND THE LIGHT" ISBN 0-380-72540-1
*$8.00 - Reissue of poetry book, (paperback, Avon Books)
"Life Sounds"
"FUTURE MEMORY" ISBN 1-55972-320-3
*$8.00 - Reissue of child's storybook with pictures to color. (hardcover, Birch Lane Press;
"The Frost Diamond"
paperback, Spring 1999, Hampton Roads Pub.)

*$50.00 - Goddess Runes Kit "GODDESS RUNES" ISBN 0-380-78292-8

1 hour audio tape, instruction booklet, runes, (softcover, Avon Books)
pouch, casting cloth, Goddess miniature, Test-
Market Version (handmade). Request list of
available colors.
Add $3.00 shipping and handling each Sub-Total
$24.95 - Video, VHS, 60 min.
“The Aftereffects of the Near-Death or $5. in groups of 2. Video and Brain
Experience” (Recorded live at a conference Shift Model are $5.00 shipping and han-
in Kentucky) dling each or $10. in groups of 3. VA Residents
(For postage outside the U.S. Only 4.5% Sales Tax
$7.95 - Audio Cassette, 48 min. add $4.50 for Canada and $9.00 for all
“Coming Back to Life”
other countries..)
(An update on her original book.)
Money orders preferred, but will accept
personal checks (in U.S. funds only)
Total Shipping
$9.95 - Audio Cassette, 60 min.
“As You Die” payable to P.M.H. Atwater. & Handling
(Inspired by an AIDS patient in NYC, Personal checks must clear bank before
this unusual tape talks a person through order is sent. Please allow at least 6
the dying process and the soul's weeks delivery. Thanks! Total Enclosed
separation afterward.)

Name ________________________________________________________________
*For substantial savings on
Address _______________________________________________________________ downloadable versions of these
City/State/Zip___________________________________________________________ self-published books, order online at:
Office Phone __________________________ Home Phone _____________________

P.M.H. Atwater, Lh.D.has distinguished herself internationally for her ground-breaking research of the near-death experience and its aftereffects. Her
books "Coming Back to Life" and "Beyond the Light" have challenged the entire field. With the publication of "Future Memory" she has expanded her
work into areas of brain development that call for a reconsideration of what is presently known about the transformation of consciousness. Interwoven
within her startling new discoveries are revelations she was given while on the “other side” of death’s curtain. Often forgotten is that she, too, is a near-
death survivor with her own story to tell. An engaging speaker and visionary, Atwater’s passion is born of experience tempered by over twenty years of
objective research discipline.
An accomplished rune caster specializing in the Elder or Yin Runes, she authored “THE MAGICAL LANGUAGE OF RUNES” (now out-of-
print), and the newly released “GODDESS RUNES” and the “GODDESS RUNES KIT.”
A recipient of numerous awards, her biography is in sixteen Who’s Who books, half of them international editions. She has lectured extensively, her
writings appearing in many national publications. She attended Boise State University in Boise, Idaho, and received her humanities doctorate in 1992
from the International College of Psychic Studies, Montreal, Canada.
Look for her newest book in Spring 1999 (from Three Rivers Press), “CHILDREN OF THE NEW MILLENNIUM” - a major study of children’s
near-death states and the millennial child. “LIFE SOUNDS,” “THE FROST DIAMOND,” and “I DIED THREE TIMES IN 1977,’ are all reissues of
earlier work.