Coming back from a trip to see my grandparents in Pennsylvania, my Mom and Dad stopped to visit his cousins at their home on the shore of New Jersey's Passaic River. It was a warm day with scattered clouds and azure sky. I walked out on a dock that stretched far out into the river. Ankle deep muddy river water rolled over the dock. I didn't see where the dock ended. I slipped into the depths of the river and drowned.
I was four-years-old. I couldn't swim. I remember a sense of letting go, peacefulness, and a dark green swirl of color.
Before this happened I remember a young woman sitting on a chair near the shore end of the dock. I assume she pulled me from the river, or at least screamed for help. I have no recollection of what happened immediately after regaining consciousness. Years later I overheard heard my parents say it was a miracle that I came back to life.
Returning home to Massachusetts, my mother got me swimming lessons. I remember bus rides to a swimming pool. Starting in the shallow end, I started learning to swim. I don't recall being afraid of the water then. I have no fear of water now.
Flash forward 27 years from the Passaic incident. I'm driving a Chevy convertible in the passing lane on Route 22 in Pennsylvania. I run into a torrent of rain. Suddenly, it feels like an enormous hand pushing the rear of the car into a spin. As the car hydroplanes and spins round and round, the steering wheel pulls from my hands. The car spins toward and then under a highway bridge past one cement pillar after another. My mind goes into slow motion. It feels surreal. The car feels like it is going to flip and then it lands on its wheels at about a 45 degree angle on a steep embankment on the opposite end of the bridge.
As a psychologist, I know this close brush with death started and ended in seconds. The slow-motion experience was different from reality. Nevertheless, this was my subjective experience. I experienced this loss of control with the same calm as when I temporarily lost my life at the Passaic River.
The tire tread was partially worn. I got four new tires with a tread designed to resist hydroplaning. I still felt on edge while driving this convertible. I sold it. My next car had a hardtop. I had some trepidations driving on a passing lane on rainy days, but soon overcame them. Years later, I bought a Buick convertible. On rainy days while driving the Buick on a highway passing lane, I felt ripples of fear. My fingers gripped the wheel. I shifted to the passenger lane and calmed down. This fear intensified near bridges.
It was get rid of the fear, always drive on the travel lane on rainy days, or get a new hardtop car. I chose to get rid of the fear. Fortunately, I knew what to do to handle this stress of change. To give my amygdala (brain-fear region) conflicting feedback, I intentionally held the wheel with a normal grip. I progressively increased the amount of time I drove on the passing lane on both rainy and sunny days. I no longer experience this fear. (Exposure is among the better ways to overcome false fears.)
Near Death Views Clash
William James, the founder of American Psychology, and his good friend Fredrick Myers, had a pact. Whoever died first would send a message to the other. At Myer's death, James was in the next room. Waiting for the first psychic message, James was ". . . sitting leaning back in his chair, his hands over his face, his open notebook still on his knees. The page was blank." (Munthe, A. 1953. The Story of San Michele. New York: Dutton p 373.)
Revived from death after a coronary event, 10 - 18% of people describe the temporary experiences of the early stages of death. Some report entering a tunnel of light, meeting a deceased relative, or seeing their lives in review. (For a recent summary of science and near death experiences, see Agrillo, C. 2011. Near-Death Experience: Out-of-Body and Out-of-Brain? Review of General Psychology, 15, 1-10.)
Near death coronary survivors have different views. Some describe looking down on an operating room and seeing medical staff hovering over their body. They don't report objects that can only be seen from above the room. A near death experience may be a life changing experience, or life goes on as before. When feeling suffocated as part of your near death experience, you may later feel traumatized or panicked. The experience and process of recovery from temporary death is different for different folk.
Other than having eidetic images of my brushes with death, neither event triggered a major life-style change, as it might with a sub-group of others. But I did learn to swim. I applied psychological methods to conquer false fears that I successfully used with my clients.
Neuroscience and religion often clash about the meanings of anecdotal reports on the early stages of biological death. The triggering of endorphins (a feel-good brain chemical), the memories of a dying brain, and hallucination may partially explain altered mental states; but the content may be influenced by religious expectations, culture, and beliefs.
From some religious perspectives, spirituality is independent of both the brain and the body. Death is thought of as the start of a passage to a new dimension of an existence beyond biological death. Following near death experiences, people report having guides lead them to a next dimension. Others see a tunnel of light. Such reports are believed to confirm the existence of a soul and of a world beyond death.
If you think the evidence supports perceptual changes from an oxygen-starved brain, then a neuroscience explanation for a near death experience may appeal. If you believe a spirit power opens the door to a world beyond, and a near death experience is a sign, then you may feel comforted by your thoughts of an afterlife, provided it is not one of flames and demons.
What do you think?
Dr. Bill Knaus
