Robin's Song, Treasure Your Soul's Wisdom, "Have you ever had a Near Death Experience or OBO?
After having 3 near death experiences Robin Alexis was compelled to write her book "Robin's Song, Treasure Your Soul's Wisdom". Her intention is to help each one of us have the fortitude, courage and commitment to share the mystical truth of who we are. Have you ever had a near death experience or out of body experience? At the end of Robin's book she says, "I have sung my song. Now I want to hear yours."Robin wants to hear your song. Please share your near death experiences and out of body experience stories here. Let's create a community of people who are joined together by the common mystical experience of near death and out of body BEINGNESS.
Memoirs OBO
I was sixteen or seventeen when I had my one and only near death experience. I’ve had several out of body experiences, but just the one near death. I was very young and had no idea that the vision I had wasn’t a dream. For years I reviewed over and over again the same film in my mind. It is difficult to describe; I will do my best to paint you a picture as I saw it then and see it now, repeatedly. I don’t mean to confuse you, I only had the experience one time, but it was so clear that I can recall every moment or even portions of the enlightenment at will in the same vivid detail as when it actually occurred.
I was in a field, a meadow of long blades of green grass of rolling hills. Vicki, my first dog, a German Shepherd was with me. It was similar to the introduction of Little House on the Prairie, where Mellissa Gilbert is frolicking in a field. My vision was long before that program ever aired, and probably before Melissa Gilbert was ever born. But the similarity is remarkable; similar, not exact.
I find it interesting that my Mother’s family name was Gilbert and that almost forty years later; I met Melisa Gilbert at the Tombstone Film Festival in Tombstone during my divorce. I was uncomfortable meeting her. I got her autograph for my collection and never coveted it, as I do so many of my others.
It isn’t clear to me, whether Vicki was showing me the way, or making sure it was safe for me to pass. Probably a little bit of both. I could see a forest ahead of me, and it was my goal to get there. I didn’t feel as though I was in a hurry, yet my pace was fast. Maybe it had to do with keeping up with my fourteen year companion, who had died some nine years or so earlier. It was a joy to be with my best friend again. She had truly been my best friend.
Vicki was always at my side. She was my protectorate. What I would give for another protector like her. My mother used to put me outside her store in a play pen. Vicki would sit right there with me. If she so much as sensed that someone were going to harm me, she would not tolerate that and would growl at some person that she sensed would be harmful to me. I don’t really remember that, but my Mom told me years later. What I do remember about Vicki protecting me is that my Mother, who was big on discipline, would never so much as raise her voice to me if that dog was with me. Mom was never afraid of Vicki, except where I was concerned. Vicki was always very calm, as long as she was…but should Mom, or anyone else for that matter express the slightest animosity for me, Vicki would let them know that she was not about to let that happen.
I don’t know where Vicki went once we reached the forest. Like Loretta, she was just gone. Although. I was alone, I was not afraid. It was going to be an adventure, but little did I know what was ahead of me. Before I knew it, I was in a tunnel, not like the Lincoln, with lights and cars, but rather a black area that felt like a cylinder. It felt like it was spinning very slowly. After floating in this tunnel for a ways, I could see a light
When I woke up from what I thought was a dream state, I realized that I was sleeping on the couch, in my summer cottage behind my fathers store in Noyac, Long Island. I was in a pool of sweat. I was burning up. I then went back to sleep. As I grew closer to the light, I saw a white clad angel. There were white rays illuminating from the angel and golden rays from behind.
I gave it great consideration. I was torn but decided to return angel, whose arms were in the air and he was holding a staff. Behind the angel was more light, but it wasn’t white light coming from behind, it was golden.
Something instinctively told me that if I went with the angel that I could be with my Grandmother, Mommy Gilbert again. It felt warm and inviting even though her presence was not visible. The angel was speaking without moving his lips. He told me that I had to decide whether to come with him or to go back. Then I saw Mommy Gilbert and she told me that it was OK to go back, and that she would be fine and that she would see me again.
Then like a silent explosion, all that I was in front of me was gone and I was back in the meadow.
Share on your favorite social sites
»
- Robin's blog
- Login or register to post comments
Why can't I stay dead? I like it over here.
When I was almost three years old, on a miserable hot day in August, I drowned.
I remember it vividly. Three families’ worth of sticky, sweaty children tumbled out of the car and scampered in bare feet down the scalding hot, sandy bank to the clean, cool Connecticut River below. As my feet grew accustomed to the cool water, I heard my mother tell my brother and sister to keep an eye on me. Anyway, I knew the rules: Don’t go in the water up over your knees. Don’t go near the drop-off.
I shielded my eyes and looked up at the covered bridge. I watched my brother and sister take their places in line under the bridge. I can still hear the rope creaking as, one by one, the kids took turns swinging from it. I heard them splash into the water. I heard them screaming and laughing. I watched the water ripple out. I saw them go under the water and rise back up out of it. I wanted to be a big kid.
I couldn’t stand in line; I was too little. I didn’t know how to swim. I glanced over to where Mom was sitting. Swirls of smoke from her cigarette floated up from one hand, while another grasped a thick green bottle of Coke. She was really living it up with her friends. Cliff and Julie were having fun, too. I tried to catch minnows in my bucket. They wouldn’t go in. Even the minnows didn’t want to play with me. No one was paying attention to me. I decided to go for a swim. I kicked my legs and walked around on the sandy bottom on my hands.
A mean little boy who had just been yelled at for not playing fair came out of the water and made fun of me. “You’re not really swimming.”
I was embarrassed. I decided to see if I could swim. I dunked my whole head under the water and opened my eyes. I lifted my arms and moved them like water wings, unknowingly inching towards the drop-off. I lost my balance and began to fall. I kicked and swiveled in search of the surface. I was sinking! I was scared! What if my feet touched the bottom? Mom had said there were leeches on the floor of the deep part! I kept my teeth clenched tight together so fish wouldn’t swim into my mouth. My feet touched the silt at the bottom. I looked up and saw the sun shining through the water. My chest hurt. Then pop! There was no time left. No one heard my silent screaming; no one heard my telepathic cry for help. No one noticed that I was not visible.
I saw a fairy, like the one in the Walt Disney movies on TV Sunday nights. Tinkerbelle! She waved her wand and I saw my body floating in the water, my hair moving in the river currents. My body was motionless. I began to see a movie of my present life, and other lives, playing backwards. At the end of my movie, I saw a man with long brown hair and a white robe floating towards me. He wasn’t in the water. He was in the air. His robe billowed gently; his hair flowed softly around his head. I asked him why the movie had stopped. I noticed I couldn’t see his feet. I asked, “Who are you and where are your feet? You must be Jesus and you have come to save me from drowning!”
He smiled. The next moment I was sitting on a stone bench under olive trees in the Garden of Gethsemane. I could feel the uncannily familiar cool stone under my thighs. He spoke to me for a long time. He told me that if I could survive the first part of my life, which would be a very, very hard thing to accomplish, that I would move to the place where movies are made. He said my life would be hard because of the karma I had created in other lifetimes. People said bad things about Mary Magdalene, but they weren’t true. He told me not to be frightened, to be like her. He said his birth and how he was raised were the miracles of his life. I must have faith and will myself to survive the years ahead.
If I made it through the first half of my life, he said I would tell that the teachings about reincarnation had been taken out of the Bible. He said again that they took the word reincarnation out of the Bible, but I would remember my past lives. When I was old enough I would teach the truth about life. He told me that there were seven senses. He reminded me that everyone knew about the five senses: sight, smell, touch, hearing, and taste. And then he told me about the sixth sense, intuition, and the seventh sense, awareness – perception without judgment. He said the seventh sense is the most important. I asked him why. He said that when we learn to perceive without judgment, we will learn to truly love one another. He told me that I would learn to trust my inner knowing through my life experiences. He told me to be the observer of my life and I would learn and become very aware of all my senses. He told me to use my common sense.
The next thing I knew a man in a red bikini bathing suit was swimming towards me. I was back in my little body. I felt the man grasp my arm and lift me to him. He swam for a little while with me under his arm. Then he handed me to my mother.
My mother carried me to her blanket and cradled me to her. I felt much loved. She cuddled me and rested my head on her chest. I looked up at my mother and told her that I saw a movie in the water with Jesus in it. In that intimate moment I looked right into her eyes and asked, “Mommy, is Jesus my real Daddy?” Mom’s reaction was fierce. She leapt up, tossed me from her lap, and began to fold the blanket. I could feel the cool wet sand sticking to my thighs, my wet bathing suit clinging to body, the sun kissing my skin, the breeze caressing my cheeks and tousling my hair. Her commandment was clear: Never ask that question again!
I felt like my mother breathed the devil’s own breath. Her consternation was a warning to me that I better drop the idea of sharing with her the rest of what Jesus had said to me. In my three-year-old mind, I knew that I was on “thin ice.” It would be decades before I consciously recalled my moments with Jesus again.
Mom told us kids not to tell Dad what had happened. She said he would be very angry with her for not watching me better. My father would not learn of my drowning until I was an adult.
The next day, instead of going back to the beach, we had to get cooled off on the front lawn by running through the sprinkler. Even though it was really hot, I couldn’t run through the sprinkler like the other kids. When my sister asked why I wasn’t taking my turn, I said, “I can hear the blades of grass crying when the kids skid across them.” She told my mother, who told me that was crazy. I shut off my feelings about the grass.
1st near death experience of Robin Alexis