My posts here have become very spasmodic indeed and for that I can only apologise. All I can say in my defence was that this was a blog about my journey though rabbinic school and to becoming ordained. And after that happened my postings became even more infrequent than they had been before. Reading back I can see that I did talk about my seizure which happened at the end of the academic year in 2014. So just over three years ago now. And I now want to post about something that happened during my stay in hospital.
As people who read my blog know, and even more so people who know me in real life. My memory has been very bad since my seizure and my memory of the time around my seizure is really very badly effected. But I do have one memory which is of what I think of as a near death experience. I was certainly very ill. The first hospital in which I was treated was the Whittington in London and it is in the Whittington that this experience took place.
I 'woke up' at night and although I know and knew I was still on the hospital ward I found myself elsewhere.
I was at the bottom of a well. Floating on inky black warm water. Not bath warm, but the kind of warm of the sea in the Mediterranean after a long hot summer's day but when its night. Indeed it was night in the real world, but I was at the bottom of a well, floating on this warm inky black water. At the top of the well I could see a night sky dazzling in its beauty stars upon starts. A sky full of stars in the way it only is in children's books or paintings.
(The only real world night sky that has come close was one time I was in the Negev and wonder a little way away from where we staying and saw the night sky without light pollution.)
At the top of the well I could see the nights sky. And underneath me I could feel the warm water keeping me afloat with very little effort. Albeit that some effort was required. I could also smell night jasmine and hear the wind and music laughter faintly from far far away, the sound of insects and the wind though leaves again from far away.
And I knew two things: One was that I could if I wanted brace myself and clim out of the well slowly slowly back towards the mouth of the well, and towards life, or alternatively I could let myself sink in to the warm (and rather inviting) blackness of the water and simply go. I also knew that the choice was mine, and that although I was not required to make a snap judgment a decision was required sooner rather than latter. The alternative was to brace myself against the sides of the well and slowly and painfully inch my way up and out of the well and back towards the continuation of my life. The voice, for this was being communicated to me by a voice, made clear that this was a choice which could only be made by me and that no pressure was being put on me either way. Climbing out would not be easy but deciding to go would be an irrevocable decision.
It also told me that the choice was mine, and I should not give to much weight to what others might want me to do. Friends, family, and others. I should listen only to my own heart and soul and then when ready decide.
Its hard to describe the voice, it was both internal and external at the same time. Young and old, older in fact than I really know how to say, but it 'sounded young'. 'Still full of sap and still green' (Psalm 92:14).
It was also genderless, although again if I were pushed and had to say what gender I'd say female.
Whatever age and or gender it was tender and compassionate and only concerned for my wellbeing and its owner loved me.
The the voice withdraw and left me to make my decision. Floating on the warm water at the bottom of a well on a summer's night. Making the occasional paddling motion with my hands to stop myself from sinking. Asking and re-asking myself the question. Did I want to struggle and clime out of the well or let myself simply sink and go. (Go I know not where). Although my grasp on time is very hazy from this period and was very hazy at the time. I would say that I equivocated about my decision for about three days before deciding that however hard it was I was going to climb out. I still had 'stuff' I wanted to do and still had sufficient ties to the corporal world to keep me here. I'm not going to lie, however. I option of simply sinking into that warm and peaceful water was very inviting indeed. Although I am glad I didn't go.
After making the decision I felt much less agitated, although I was still very distressed by my condition and the whole hospital environment, but one abiding thing it has left me with is I'm much less scared about dying than I was before.
I don't know if the experience was 'real' in any physical sense although it still feels very real to me. And at the time felt like the most real and authentic experience I have ever had.
I will, probably, return to this topic and experience at some point and write about it more fully. But I just wanted to share something about it now.
