By Michael Avery
At the age of twenty-eight, I moved to Honolulu where I lived for the better part of a year behind the International Marketplace in Waikiki. Seven years had passed since I’d read my first book on out-of-the-body travel, The Tiger’s Fang, by Paul Twitchell. I was about to learn more.
When some friends came to visit from Oregon, we packed a lunch and some towels, then headed straight for the beach. After renting surfboards from a stand in front of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, we swam out to catch some waves. It was a memorable morning. Just before noon, my friends called it a day and waved for me to join them on the beach for lunch. Instead, I paddled out for one last ride.
Instead of resting after the tiresome swim out, I took my place at the end of a row of locals straddling their personalized surfboards. A glance over my shoulder in the direction of the open sea confirmed what the other surfers already knew—a big wave was building. I paddled ahead furiously, catching the wave along with the locals. I was on top of the world.
My feeling of exhilaration vanished, however, when I tumbled off the back of my board. As I bobbed up and down in the tropical surf, I watched the other riders cruise in to shore fifty yards away. I could see my rented board floating in their midst. Heaving a weary sigh, I started the long swim back. It took only a moment to realize my terrible predicament.
My arms felt like lead. I swam five difficult yards, then went under. I called out, but the pounding surf drowned my cries for help. Again, I went under. Only this time when I surfaced, I popped right out of my body.
The Viewpoint of Soul
What a startling experience! I was simply a viewpoint. With heightened clarity and surprising calmness, I surveyed my grim situation from a vantage point about three feet above my left shoulder. I felt no fear, nor was there a sense of desperation or urgency.
Mostly, I was mesmerized by the variety of bright colors: the swimsuits, the towels, the flamingo-pink face of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. My own towel was spread out in front of the Outrigger next door. Will I ever lie on it again? I wondered, without concern. Laughing children splashed in the water near the edge of the surf. An indescribable feeling of joy permeated the atmosphere.
There was no perception of time, nor was I particularly attached to the outcome of the drama. I was merely an observer. In fact, as I reveled in this remarkable new freedom, the probability that I would leave the body permanently within the next few minutes seemed far less important than fully processing my new insight: that I exist, independent of the body, as a spiritual being.
My second insight was as unexpected as the first. Suddenly, I returned to the body. Another huge wave towered above me. In that moment, my heart sank as I faced the inevitable. There was no way out. Only then did I remember to call on the Inner Teacher for help. I was barely able to whisper a quick, impassioned plea.
The Miracle
As the wave crashed over me, I threw out my arms in desperation. A dull thud sent vibrations reverberating up my right arm. I’d hit a board. I held to it with all my strength as it drifted gently toward shore. I was too weak to pull myself on top, so I clung to it thankfully, resting my head on its surface. A warm wave of relief flooded through me when my toes finally touched sand. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked around. How could I thank the board’s owner?
But no one appeared to be searching for a missing board. With growing perplexity, I scanned the beach, this time in a 360-degree sweep. Then, I happened to glance down at the board. I stared at the number “15” in stunned disbelief. It was the same one I had rented only four hours earlier!
That night, I posed for a picture with my friends from the mainland on a narrow lanai overlooking Waikiki. I was the one with the biggest smile. When the prints came back, I noticed something unusual. Above my right shoulder, where a distant light had refracted in the camera lens, shone a blue-white light in the form of a star. It was a message from the Inner Teacher, a confirmation of divine intervention, what I would later call a “waking dream.”
This proved to be a turning point in my life. I came away from my near-death experience with two powerful insights: I was more than a physical body, and help was available for the asking. I had experienced the real me, call it Soul if you will, and I knew that no matter what happened in my life after that, “I always will BE.”
* From The Golden Book of HU, by Michael and Pichaya Avery
Please note: Images on this site are for illustration purposes only. Any resemblance to actual people, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Lewis Carroll
Wonderful story and experience, Michael. Thank you for sharing it. And I’d loved to see that old photo🤣!
Usrey
What a powerful experience that helped give you insights about our existence beyond our physical presence. Beautifully written!
Michael Avery
Lewis, I should have kept that old photo. The blue star was really impressive. As for me, the guy in the feature image is what I would have looked like had I been tall and handsome! lol
Michael Avery
Thank you, Paula. That experience shifted my consciousness more than any other. I’m thankful it happened when I was relatively young.