Some conversations are about life. Some are about what happens when life seems to be coming to an end.
When I was twenty-four, I died.
I experienced what I can only describe as an out-of-body experience. I left my body, experienced something far beyond the ordinary human experience, and then I came back.
I don't claim to have all the answers. But I have been there.
I've experienced something that most people can only wonder about, and I've spent more than thirty years trying to understand it.
So when we talk about death, dying, loss or what might lie beyond this life, I can offer a perspective that comes from personal experience.
Not certainty. Not doctrine. Just an honest perspective from someone who has been there.
And then there is the river itself.
Is a river only its geographic features — its rocks, sand and banks — from its origin to the ocean? Or is it the water that began as a tiny trickle and gradually gathered momentum as tributaries joined it, each bringing something with it?
We gather knowledge in much the same way. We are fed information. We meet people. We experience love and loss. We learn, change and grow. Our tributaries become part of us.
And eventually, the river reaches the ocean.
Does it end there?
I don't know what happens to every one of us when we die. But I do know what happened to me. And perhaps that gives us something worth exploring together.