The Afterlife of Billy Fingers: How My Bad-Boy Brother Proved to Me There's Life After Death (11 page)

After you're dead, everything is actually more alive. Take, for instance, my Book of Life, given to me by Joseph, that dazzling silver-haired man I met under the blue-white sphere. Although I'm calling it a book, it doesn't have pages and words. It's more like an oscillating rainbow. I'm calling it a book because that implies a gathering together of information. Also, Book of Life has a nice ring to it.

Before each soul comes to earth, its own personal edition of the Book of Life is written. Life on your planet is about dramas that change you. Isn't it funny that most people are scared of change, when changing is the double fudge frosting on top of the cake of life?

And although much of your life is planned out, there's a lot of freedom inside that plan. The circumstances are
like lines in a kid's coloring book, but instead of ink the lines are penciled in; they're erasable. As you color in the spaces, you influence the lines.

Reading my Book of Life is different from watching my hologram. There was no analyzing going on then. Now, Joseph and I are looking at how the particular colors I chose shaped my life.

Joseph looks like a human being but he's made of light, like me. I don't think he's an embodiment of one of the Higher Beings I spoke about before. My sense is he's working under the umbrella of their benevolence. Joseph's better looking than the best-looking actor you've ever seen. His face has experience and goodness etched right into it. His attitude about everything is not at all serious; it's lighthearted and wise. I don't know if everyone here sees things the way Joseph does because I haven't come across any other locals so far. But I can tell you that Joseph's perspective is perfect for me.

Even though Joseph knows so much more than I do, he doesn't impose rules or give me opinions unless I ask. He doesn't dominate me in any way, and that's a beautiful thing. There's so much influence from others when you're on earth that in a way you don't get to live your own life. You get to live your own life after you're dead.

What exactly does Joseph do? The best thing he does is love me unconditionally. On earth people talk about unconditional love, but until you've actually been loved that way it's impossible to understand the power of it. It goes way beyond acceptance because acceptance implies that you like some parts of me and not others
but you accept it all. To Joseph, everything about me is extraordinary. What an experience!

I really didn't do a bad job on earth with the circumstances I chose. They weren't easy circumstances. A lot of my life was preparing me for my new job—writing this book with you. It's hard to help others if you don't understand their frustrations, their disappointments, their fears, their desires, and their greatness. You can't really put yourself in someone else's shoes unless you've stood where they're standing.

I stood in a multitude of places, played a lot of different roles in my time: the addict, the philosopher, the healer, the scoundrel, the do-gooder, the do-bad-er, and my personal favorite, the bad-boy-saint. I don't mean to imply in any way that I was a saint, just that although I did my share of unconventional things, things that were against the law even, my heart and soul were always reaching for something wonderful.

Helping others was always my favorite thing. Although I never finished high school, I was always a good talker and I was always sincere. I used those gifts in my finest hours. Remember when I ran a drug center for young teenagers? I loved those kids and they knew it.

After that, I got to live out my lawyerly ambitions in my favorite job of all time, working as a liaison in the New York City courts helping people who got arrested for drug crimes. I pleaded their cases and tried to persuade the judges to sentence them to drug centers instead of prison. Of course, that was before I went to jail myself
[laughs].

I am honored that my edition of the Book of Life contains these writings I am placing in your charge. As you may have figured out, I've become sort of a helping soul again. I hope through these pages people will realize they are not alone. I hope they will feel their immortality, even for only a fraction of a second, so they can lose some of their fear of dying. Then, not only will they have a more terrific death, they will also have a better life.

And, did I mention that within these pages there's light?

Oh, and I'm sending you a star today.

Billy's radiance made me feel so peaceful I lingered on the beach without a care in my head, gazing upwards, looking for the star Billy promised. The sea, the sand, and the gulls sparkled with the subtle light of the Divine.

That afternoon, as I drove into New York City to get my hair colored, I was thinking that of all my brother's roles, Billy Fingers was my least favorite. I hated that name. It scared me. It hinted at deals gone bad, jail, guns, and turning up dead in an alley.

“What are you, Bill?” I'd ask. “A gangster? A pickpocket? A bookie?”

Many times I'd wished my brother was something else—a professor, an author, a businessman—rather than someone whose greatest pleasure was getting high on drugs. Sometimes I was even ashamed of him. Like in high school when the brother of my best friend didn't want her to be friends with the sister of the town
drug addict. Never mind that I was an honor student helping her realize how brilliant she was.

As I parked my car, I was thinking that although my brother's life was different than the one I would have wished for him, I never wanted a different brother, one who wasn't Billy. I was also thinking that maybe I'd have my hair made sunnier for the sunny days of summer—put in some highlights.

That's when Billy's voice came through my windshield.

Why don't you make your hair the color of Lena Olin's, the actress?

I laughed as I walked to the salon. “What do you know about hair color, Billy?”

While I waited in the colorist's chair, a woman sat down next to me. I felt a strange, magnetic pull in her direction, so I turned my head to look. There sat the beautiful Lena Olin.

Billy had literally sent me a star.

B
illy's talk about his many roles made me wonder about mine. Was I a cosmic detective exploring the ultimate mystery—what happens after you die? Billy wasn't just giving me information, he was giving me proof. And the plot had been set up perfectly. I'd left my life in New York City in search of a new one at a house by the bay. Without knowing it, I had set the stage for Billy's entrance. This wasn't just Billy's Book of Life, it was mine, too.

As the steamy days of August were coming to an end, Billy gave me some more secrets.

Although all beings come from the same Source, within each individual blossom, within our differences, lies the pleasure of creation. In its multitudinous glorious playfulness, the Infinite creates diversity, so there are many soul tribes. Each tribe has its special explorations to undertake on earth.

Your soul tribe isn't about country or race, religion, or family. When you meet someone from your tribe, you feel you somehow already know that person. Other tribes are unfamiliar, but they bring
gifts of new knowledge and wisdom. The different tribes provide all the characters needed for the great cosmic drama.

Many elaborate symbols appear throughout my Book of Life. They are written in a language I have never learned, but seem to know intimately. My beloved Joseph and I are from the tribe Lohana, and these symbols are our tribe's wisdom formulas.

Each human being carries out Divine experiments in the conditions that earth has to offer. The holy grail of the mythological journey of human incarnation is the wisdom formulas.

Not only do I understand the meaning of my tribe's formulas, but also through them I feel the essence of the souls who created them. What's surprising is how unconventional these Lohana formulas are. They contain no fixed idea of what is virtuous. These equations go far beyond human labels of “good” and “bad” and focus instead on the quality of one's light.

They also speak to a great mystery. Why would a soul forget its high origins, clothe itself in a body, and leave the Higher Worlds for the more difficult earth?

Well, my darling, because the soul loves experience and doesn't fear suffering. The soul knows it can never be injured. This doesn't mean it isn't natural for people to prefer pleasure over pain. That's part of the plan. And until you've left your world, you'll never fully understand all the whys and wherefores.

I was never fond of pain and suffering, but my endof-life-on-earth scenario was filled with it. You might
think because I suffered so much that I failed, but that wouldn't be true. Even though my life ended like a tragic opera, that was okay, honey.

I know, Princess. You're wishing I could share the Lohana formulas with you, but I don't have permission to do that. Don't worry, Annie. A lot of their wisdom is already in this book. Besides, you have your own equations that are being written as you live. And don't worry about them, either. You don't need to figure them out. Just follow your chimera, your eternal fire, and the formulas will come of themselves.

Once I could feel the earth beneath my feet again, I Googled “Lohana.” I was startled to discover that Lohana was the name of an ancient tribe that originated in India. According to legend, these noble warriors were descendants of Lord Rama, a king who lived more than five thousand years ago and is still worshiped by Hindus as one of the many incarnations of God. Was Billy a descendent of Rama?

I re-read Billy's notes, looking for an answer. It wasn't there, but something Billy said grabbed my attention.

Just follow your chimera, your eternal fire, and the formulas will come of themselves.

What was a chimera?

The first search result that came up was a threeheaded, fire-breathing she-monster from Greek mythology.

I kept looking.

Soon, an article called
At the Feet of the Eternal Fire
came up. It was about the fires known as the
Chimera
, which burn on Mount Olympus in Turkey. These mysterious flames come from inside the mountain and blaze skyward through holes in the rock. The
Chimera
are considered eternal—when attempts are made to extinguish them, they re-ignite.

What was my chimera? Where had my fire gone? Writing music had always been my passion, but that wasn't going anywhere. I had to admit to my Greta Garbo self that the Billy experience had lit a spark within me. Maybe being a cosmic detective exploring the world beyond was my new chimera.

O
n an idyllic September evening, while I was taking a shower, Billy said in a wickedly scary voice, “Steve is going to be very sick.” Then he laughed like Vincent Price in a horror movie.

I was confused and upset. Billy had never made this kind of prediction before, and why was he using that spooky voice? Maybe this wasn't really Billy. It didn't sound like him. Maybe it was some kind of imposter trying to scare me. But why?

It was true that Steve hadn't been feeling well lately, but a specialist had assured him it was just some sort of bug. What if the doctor had been wrong? If Steve knew what Billy had said, he would freak out. Without letting him know why, I called and gently persuaded him to see another doctor.

A few days later, Steve phoned. “The doctor said I just have an infection that's hanging on. Nothing to worry about. He gave me some more antibiotics.”

Again, from far away I heard Billy's sinister laugh. This time it was louder and sounded truly evil as it echoed around my ceiling.

Trying to keep cool, I told Steve, “I want you to see someone else.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. Go see Florence. I'm sure she'll fit you in this afternoon.”

Florence was Steve's primary doctor. Maybe the specialists were being too specialized. Steve called me from her office.

“My EKG looks suspicious. Florence is sending me to see a cardiologist.” Later that day, Steve was in the hospital having an angiogram.

I knew that an angiogram often led to other things. I threw some clothes in a suitcase and headed to the city. The following morning, when the doctors came to Steve's hospital room and told us he needed bypass surgery, my head began to spin. On top of being worried about Steve, hospitals make me shaky. When I was fifteen, I had an emergency appendectomy that I almost didn't survive, a nightmare from start to finish.

Just as I was on the verge of losing it, Billy's soothing presence came out of nowhere and snapped me out of my panic. I became very calm and focused. Looking around the hospital, I didn't like what I saw. Dirty. Disorganized. When the surgeon came by to say he'd be operating on Steve the next day, I gave him the cold shoulder. Then I made some calls and located the best heart surgeon in New York City. As Steve was being lifted into a special cardiac ambulance at midnight for a transfer, I looked up at the dark inky sky and said, “Thanks, Billy.”

At the second hospital they discovered that a drug Steve was getting at the first hospital could have made
him bleed to death on the operating table. His surgery was postponed until the drug cleared his system.

The open-heart surgery went well, much quicker than expected. Because we caught his medical problem in time, there was no damage to Steve's heart. Billy had scared me to make sure I would be persistent. This wasn't green tea. This was life and death.

Billy stopped talking to me for a while. He knew I needed time. This last incident shook me up. I was beyond grateful, but had a lot of questions.

Before they were born, had Steve agreed to be Billy's protector during his last years on earth?

Had Billy agreed to repay the favor after he was dead?

Did Billy need permission to tell me Steve was in trouble?

If it hadn't been for Billy's intervention, would Steve have had a heart attack?

Could Steve have died?