The Afterlife of Billy Fingers: How My Bad-Boy Brother Proved to Me There's Life After Death (15 page)

On earth we treasure our memories, and that's okay. That's as it should be. But you have to understand, where I am there's no desire to hold on to anything, to cling to the past. Strange, how Joseph and I reviewed the life I lived with so much devotion, simply to let go of it in the end. I guess I was loosening up my memories. Now, I'm still me, minus my experience. And I can say with some authority that it's delightfully liberating.

When I say my memories are gone, I don't mean I don't remember things about earth; I do. But what happened to me there, my ties to that particular life, have now been untied—except, that is, for you, my sister. And that is a very big and unusual “except”—as in an exception is being made for the sake of the book.

How did my memories die? I was floating around in the stardust waiting for my Sacred Scripture to take me into my next memory when pure white light came down from above me. Usually, the light was multicolored. Also, Joseph didn't show up for the lightshow as he usually did. These were clues that something different was afoot.

As the white light touched me, it became a very specific memory: the memory of thousands of tiny white lights moving in and out of my worn out sixty-two-yearold body, loosening my soul from my physical self. I'd seen these lights before. In my birth memory, these same kinds of lights bound my soul to my baby body. I think my death was a whole lot easier on them
[laughs].

In the heart of my death memory, I saw myself running with my arms stretched upwards, my eyes looking towards the night sky, saying a prayer as I ran toward the speeding
car. As the car hit, I felt an enormous release as I went through another kind of death. My Sacred Scripture had played itself out and all my memories exploded like a supernova.

The explosion of my memories rocketed me through space. I moved through a starless sky past huge forms that seemed like Beings of some kind. I sped by them so fast I can't say what they were for sure. And that gorgeous feminine voice I told you about guided me like radar through the darkness, pulling me away from my past.

Leaving behind my memories is a far distance to travel. The loss of experience, the places, the people—this is what we fear about death. But don't worry. You're more than ready for it when it comes. If you were in a fragrant garden filled with all kinds of luscious flowers and plants, and in your hand was a crinkled black-and-white photo of someplace you vaguely remember, would it bother you if you lost that photo? Whatever memories I had, even the best, can't compare with getting closer to the Source. And that's what's happening. My journey is bringing me closer to the Divine Presence.

Way off in the distance, I see a radiating disc of light. This is a light I have not seen before. The Divine Presence seems to have gathered itself up into a concentrated pure white light. As I move towards this light, it calls me—not the me I was on earth. It calls me by my soul name, the soul I was before I left the Higher Worlds to go to earth.

For the first time, Billy's voice didn't come from the right. It came from directly above me and entered
the top of my head through what felt like a funnel. Violet light beamed through this funnel and lit up a small area inside my brain, making me feel hyperawake.

I was aware of the ancient Indian system of chakras, or energy centers in the body, but had never looked into them much. Now, I went on the Internet and searched “crown chakra.” It turned out that one of the physical counterparts of this chakra is the pituitary, the miraculous master gland in the brain that regulates many other glands in the body. Maybe the tweak of my pituitary was why I felt so invigorated.

“Crown chakra” also brought up these results: violet light, communication with the soul, Divine inspiration, gateway to the highest spiritual influences. Maybe as Billy headed further away, he would be communicating with me through this chakra.

I began to wonder, though. As he left his memories further behind, would he still remember me?

A
s my crown chakra began to blossom, I felt myself moving along with Billy towards the light. I started falling in love with everything—and the sun, the sky, the sea, the trees, the flowers, the birds, the butterflies, and the ground beneath my feet, all seemed to love me back. When I went into town, people who were strangers seemed like friends. Even if they weren't able to see the light, I knew they still were moving towards it. The pure joy of the Divine Presence was their destiny.

As the mid-May sun rose like a topaz in the sky. . .

Good morning, my sister. Here I am again, your on-the-scene reporter, coming to you from a new dimension.

For the first time since I died, I'm standing on solid ground, but the ground here is like nothing I've ever seen. It's luminous and kind of rough, like uncut diamonds. Think of pictures of the moon's surface. Where I am, the landscape is also bare and rocky, with craters and hills, but instead of dusty, it's glistening and translucent. Everything in this jeweled world looks like it's made of crystallized light, even the pink sky.

Now, at this very moment, as I'm speaking to you, that haunting voice is getting louder and louder and a pink mist is moving in. The mist is so fragrant, if I were able to swoon, that's what I would be doing.

Suddenly, all at once, I'm in front of the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Beautiful is so inadequate. She must be a different species or a Higher Being. She's twice my height and very slender. Her face is gorgeous! It's like a golden pearl with exotic features. She reminds me of the goddesses they worship in India.

Her feet are adorned with rings and bracelets, and they don't touch the ground. Her dress of brilliant blue sapphires trimmed with rubies swirls out behind her. She has thick black hair down to her waist, and golden light encircles her head like a tiara. Have you seen the moon when it's golden? That's the only thing on earth that even vaguely describes her luminescence. As she floats in the air, her hands move in some kind of mystical dance.

Oh, Annie. I've never been in love like this!

And I feel very humble. I was kind of cocky about being dead, but if this would have happened right away . . .well, I wasn't ready for it. I had to be prepared for this kind of majesty.

As I stand before my Goddess, my appearance is changing. I'm getting taller and thinner, and overall I'm looking more like her. I call her my Goddess because somehow she is mine.

For the first time, my Goddess moves her perfect ruby lips. Hers is the intoxicating flute-like voice
I've been hearing all along. She sings me her name: Shvara. It fills me like a mysterious perfume I have been forever seeking.

Shvara smiles a smile so gorgeous and powerful, if there could be a smile like that on earth, all war would end and everyone would stop what they're doing and go feed the hungry children. It is that powerfully good. I'm not sure I could have withstood the power of that smile before this moment.

Then, my Goddess sings me her full name: Shvara Lohana.

Do I really belong to the same tribe as this magnificent Goddess? I try to control myself but have to ask, “Does that mean I will be with you forever?”

Her smile dazzles me. “In this dimension, forever is longer than you can imagine.”

I admit that sounded disappointing, but she didn't exactly say no, right?

This time, hearing Billy through my crown chakra opened its petals into a lush flower. As Shvara's beauty entered my soul, my heart beat so fast I thought it might burst. Instead, it melted like a burning candle, filling me with molten grace.

I searched the Internet to see if the name Shvara had any meaning. I was fascinated to learn that Shvara is the short form of
I-shvara
, a Sanskrit word, Sanskrit being the sacred language of ancient India. So Billy's description of Shvara as an Indian goddess wasn't a coincidence.

What delighted me the most, though, was discovering that in Hindu tradition Shvara means Supreme Lord. And when Shvara takes on a feminine form, she is no less than the Supreme Goddess, the one and only Goddess above all others.

Was Shvara Lohana an actual Divine Being or a vision Billy was having? Was she his personal God or was she God? Is God actually a goddess?

T
he very next morning, as the songbirds chatted away and the spring air filled with sweetness. . .

Shvara Lohana turns and a building surrounded by haze appears where she is looking. Did she create it with her gaze? I don't think it was there before. I'm excited because I haven't seen any buildings at all since I died. As the haziness clears, I can see that the building is pearly white and has huge columns in the style of Greek or Roman architecture. It's so enormous it seems to have no beginning or end, and it isn't solid. It ripples. A bridge is forming from where we are up to the White Building, so I guess that's where we're headed.

All this is wondrous, so very wondrous, and it's even more so because I'm completely and utterly in love. I can't be sure, because my memories are gone, but I think I loved a lot of women in my time. I am sure, though, that what I'm feeling for Shvara is something else altogether. I think it's called Divine love. If I were here with Jesus or Buddha or any other Supreme Being, I probably would be feeling a lot of love for them too, but whoever picked Shvara Lohana sure made it easy.

Making exotic dance movements with her hands, my Goddess floats up the bridge. I follow her with complete devotion. As she glides ahead, her unimaginably graceful feet captivate me. I could spend an eternity just looking at them. They're not just beautiful; they're benevolent and intelligent, just like the rest of her.

Shvara looks back at me, smiling. I'm so glad to be here, to rest from the work done on earth, and follow my Goddess towards the White Building. As we get closer, I see there are an endless number of bridges that lead up to it. And for the first time since I've been on this side of things, I see people, like me. Each one is walking up his or her own bridge towards the White Building. We aren't really people anymore, we're souls. Each soul resembles its floating Tribe Leader.

As the souls cross their bridges, we give each other a nod in passing, but if they're feeling anything like I am, all their attention is on their Leader. I'm trying to notice what I can for you. It's very unusual that I'm able to report these events, so treat this information as sacred. Whether or not we can put this in our book, I will let you know.

The Tribe Leaders are Beings that don't exist on earth, and each one of them is extraordinary. They all have the same golden light around their heads. Some are great warriors with shields and swords and superpowerful bodies. Some Leaders look kind of plain and humble except for their enormous jewel-colored auras that are more than ten times bigger than they are. Some look scholarly and carry parchment scrolls that unravel and trail behind them. One Tribe Leader has fluorescent
orange hair and is riding a gigantic red lion, or maybe he is part lion. I can't tell. Another Leader seems to be a mix of man, dolphin, and sun.

There are Tribe Leaders who I'd describe as gorgeous goddesses, like Shvara. I'm so lucky my Leader is who she is. But I'm guessing everyone feels lucky, like they have the right one.

There's a rhythm and a sense of wild celebration to this spectacle. It's as if we were all meant to be here at this time and have been rehearsing our parts for all eternity.

Shvara Lohana has been humming softly as we ascend my bridge. I am in love with her like I've never been in love. I wish you could hear my Goddess singing:

We are the dream of the Universe

We are the whim of the Infinite

The breath and the breather

The enemy and the friend

If this is illusion

I'll bow to it

Ava lo ke tash shvara

Ava lo Tara

Ava lo ke tash shvara

Ava lo Tara

Shvara's song fills me with what I will so inadequately call compassion. I feel such tenderness for the parade of souls walking toward the White Building. Each had their own story, their own struggles, their own pathway that led them here.

How noble is the journey of each human being, from Divine to dust and back again. How brave to enter a body and dance the dance of existence only to lose everything imagined to be true in the moment of death.

As we approach the top of the bridge, my consciousness is crystal clear. I am ready, but I do not know for what.

When Billy started softly chanting the words to Shvara Lohana's song, I was spellbound. I thought he was speaking some kind of celestial language and would tell me the meaning later. But when the song was over, he asked me to do another Internet search.

The lyrics I hadn't understood were, again, actual Sanskrit words. This time they were the names of Bodhisattvas, Enlightened Beings whose mission is to assist humanity. Avalokiteshvara is the Bodhisattva of compassion and Tara is his consort. Tara sprang from a tear that fell from the eye of Avalokiteshvara as he wept for the suffering of humanity. After Billy heard Shvara's song, he also seemed to be sharing in the compassion of Avalokiteshvara.

When I told Guru Guy about these names, he told me more about the hand-painted scroll he had brought me from Tibet. It had been hanging on the wall beside my bed for the last three years. The pearlescent, four-armed, lotus-postured, goldencrowned figure enthroned in a rainbow of pink lotus flowers was, in fact, Avalokiteshvara.

“But you told me it was Chenrezig,” I said.

“Chenrezig is the Tibetan name for Avalokiteshvara.”

J
une was exploding with color when the window to my brother's world opened once again.