The Afterlife of Billy Fingers: How My Bad-Boy Brother Proved to Me There's Life After Death (16 page)

When Shvara and I reach the top of the bridge, I no longer see the others; they have gone a different way. We are standing in front of an archway built into the stone wall of the White Building. The stones wave and give off an iridescent sheen, as if they are coated with mother of pearl. They're so weathered they look like they've been there since the beginning of time. Maybe they have. The wall itself is so huge I can't see the top. But the archway is narrow and only a bit taller than Shvara Lohana. It isn't the stones’ color or the archway that holds my attention, though. It's the Lohana wisdom formulas carved into the stones.

My Goddess leads me to the shimmering wall. She holds her delicate hands a few inches from the stone and invites me to do the same. This is the closest I've been to her, and to my surprise, I am filled with knowledge instead of desire. Dust cascades into the archway as my own wisdom formulas etch themselves into the wall. Four equations and my name inscribe themselves into the stone. What a moment this is! And although I don't remember how I wrote my formulas, I do understand their wisdom.

My Goddess gave me counsel for the wisdom formulas I wrote during my lifetime. She allowed me to go to earth and then to return here. Like children, we go out to have adventures in the world. It is a privilege and worth the difficulty. But know that the benevolent kingdom to which I have returned lies beyond the dream of the world.

As the stone dust clears from the archway, Shvara confers on me a blessing. Hotep! Hotep! In the area of my third eye, I have a satisfaction so mystical there are no words to describe it. I can't help but call out to her in return, Hotep!

Now I hear it—the voices of my tribe, thousands of familiar beatific voices, coming from inside the archway. They're singing praise to me. This praise isn't a vain thing. It's praise for my soul that has made the human journey and praise for my return home. Memories, forgotten memories of my spiritual family, are waking up, beckoning me into the archway. Their song pulls me into the passageway and as I enter, the light in the archway obliterates my vision. The only thing that exists for me is the chorus of mystical voices. I do not see them; I only hear my tribe's joyful singing welcoming me back, like Mahler's Eighth.

What? Mahler's Eighth? What kind of clue was Billy giving me now? Had Gustav Mahler written an eighth symphony? And if so, what did it have to do with the singing of Billy's tribe?

My pulse was speeding as I searched the Internet for answers. When I found a YouTube video of the
finale of Mahler's Eighth Symphony, the
Chorus Mysticus
, I clicked the play button.

A chorus of hundreds of celestial voices was singing exquisite music filled with light. I looked back at Billy's notes. “The only thing that exists for me is the chorus of mystical voices . . . welcoming me back, like in Mahler's Eighth.”

I went out on my deck and played
Chorus Mysticus
over and over. As I listened to the music, I was also somehow hearing the beauty of the voices from Billy's realm through my crown chakra. As the two choruses blended inside me, I spun off into a mystical realm somewhere between Billy's world and mine.

Billy's leading me to Mahler's Eighth Symphony was the cosmic crescendo of our communication, the supreme manifestation of Billy's world in mine.

After half an hour of this splendor, I began reading the lyrics of
Chorus Mysticus
moving across the video:

All that is temporary is merely an image

That which is unattainable

Here becomes possible

The indescribable

Here it takes place

The eternal-feminine

Draws us on high

Eternal eternal

How could this be? The words fit Billy's story as much as the music!

I learned that
Chorus Mysticus
, the finale to Mahler's Eighth, is played as Faust is welcomed into heaven. And although Faust lost his struggle with the devil, and although his journey had taken him far from what most people consider a spiritual life, in the end it was because of his struggle that the angels were able to carry his soul to heaven.

I could feel Billy smiling. My brother had brought me to this story to solve the most perplexing question I had about what was happening to him. How could Billy go to such a high place in the afterlife when the end of his life was full of darkness and despair? Like Faust, he lost his struggle with a powerful demon— his addictions. Now Billy was letting me know it was okay that he struggled; it was a Divine struggle.

A
few days later, still soaring from Mahler's Eighth Symphony, I re-read Billy's last set of notes. Hotep? What was that?

Once again, Billy had transmitted a word I'd never heard of but which had ancient historical meaning. Hotep, it turns out, is the first word of
The Ancient Egyptian Offering Formula
, a blessing bestowed upon the deceased in the afterlife. Hotep prepares the soul to partake of the divine nectar of the gods.

Unable to sleep as the full moon lit up the dark world, I stepped out into the night air to find Billy waiting.

As the voices of my tribe faded and my vision returned, I was surprised to find that instead of being led into the White Building I was standing in a field of red and purple roses. But Annie, you've never seen roses like these. The neon-bright flower blooms are ten times bigger than the ones you have on earth, and they're so alive you can actually see them growing.

For the first time since I met her, Shvara Lohana isn't with me. I'm okay with that, though, because I hear her singing from across the rose field. There's some kind of
dew falling on the flowers and also on me. We're being bathed in the mystical perfume of my Goddess. The roses look like they're dancing as their petals open wider to take in her fragrance. I probably also look like I'm dancing as I follow Shvara's voice through the glistening field.

Up ahead, I notice a golden dome of light. As I get closer, I see that it's a cave. Pictures of blossoms are carved around the gilded entrance, through which I can see my Goddess waiting for me inside.

Shvara is floating above a circle of golden lotus buds that sit on a quiet pond. True to her female nature, the love of my eternal life has changed her outfit. She's wearing a golden gown, sheer enough for me to see a hint of her body underneath. I'll never get used to her presence or her beauty. Her half-closed eyes make her look dreamy and seductive. If I didn't know better, I'd say she's flirting with me.

Once inside the cave, I'm so intoxicated by Shvara's sacred perfume I have to lie down. Up close I can see that instead of water the lotus pond is filled with milky nectar.

Shvara Lohana's eyes spring wide open and she begins a sacred dance. She turns slowly, and when she circles back, she's holding a violet flame. Her hips sway back and forth and sparks fly as the fire flows from one hand to the other. Each movement of Shvara's body satisfies a longing so much a part of me I didn't even know it existed. As my Goddess dances, there is no pleasure in the Universe that remains unknown to me, or unfulfilled.

Shvara swoops down and chants something over each lotus bud. Eight golden flowers open one by one. At the
heart of each blossom is a flame of some shade of purple or red. These are the flames of my past lives.

People on earth are curious about their past lives. They want to know who they were, what they did, and who they did it with. I'm content just to watch the flames of my lives illuminate the golden petals of their lotus flowers.

Shvara flies to the center of the circle of flowers, and with her ruby mouth pressed against the milky water, she chants:

The bigger the lotus

The deeper the mud

he bigger the lotus

The deeper the mud

A solitary bud, bigger than the others, rises from down inside the pond. I'm surprised. This bud is covered with mud. I haven't seen dirt of any kind on this side of things. The muddy flower quivers and blooms in the golden light of the cave. As Shvara pours the violet flame of my last life into its heart, the muddy crust evaporates. The petals of all the lotuses start moving like speeded-up hummingbird wings. They swirl and collide and become pure flashes of energy as the golden flowers of my lives blow apart. I am witnessing the ceremony that will end the cycle of my being born.

Shvara rises from the smoky explosion, gorgeous as ever. She offers me a cup filled with the milky nectar of the pond. It tastes so unfamiliar it's difficult to drink.
It's sweet but surprisingly pungent. You could never drink this elixir if you weren't ready. I am barely ready, but I drink.

As the smoke cloud reaches the top of the cave, it forms a golden dragon with fiery eyes. He's fierce, but I'm not at all afraid. The dragon's devotion to me is obvious. He's my dragon the way Shvara is my Goddess.

My dragon has served me through my many lives. My protector came to me in different forms: a beloved pet, an unexpected stroke of luck, the kind act of a stranger, a chance meeting that brought good fortune, the friend who showed up when I needed one—these were expressions of his devotion.

I feel such profound gratitude I want to honor him in some way. I pour the nectar from the cup into my hand and offer it. As my dragon drinks, I am overcome by a longing. This moment is one I would like to hold onto.

My faithful dragon bows his head, touches his forehead to mine, and in a wild selfless act of courage he breaks open the cave and destroys it with his power. Then my dragon disappears like rising smoke.

I am now standing before the great emptiness of the Absolute. I am ready to enter the Void.

But, before I go on, I want to tell you this:

Life is a Divine mysterious impulse to be tasted and then released. Although everything in your life is destined to change, I wish that the sweetness of the celestial elixir you and I have shared will forever remain on your lips.

I took on form to enter time. I entered time to partake in creation. Since my destination is no longer the
earthly realms, I will now enter the great Void and travel beyond time.

Shvara takes my hand and we ascend through profound darkness. As my Goddess lets go, I'm propelled into the Void. I am going beyond creation—before the manifest—outside of time. I am entering a world of nonexistence—no light, no sound, no beingness. I have tasted the elixir and there is no fear.

This dark passage is leading me away from the earthly world and all the levels of the afterlife that I have traveled through. I am going from somewhere to somewhere else and I will never return.

I am becoming the Allness in the Nothing.

The raindrop is returning to the ocean, but there is no ocean, there is nothingness. Do not be sad, for as I am nothingness, I am also everything: I am the Universe, I am light, I am Lohana, I am soul, I am a king, a drug addict, a saint, and a beggar.

I am the Allness in the Nothing, the Nothing in the Allness. That's what the Divine is—everything and nothing.

I was born and died many times, and although I will not return, I have returned because I am everything that ever was and ever will be. I am the suffering, I am the grace, I am the truth, I am the play, the player, the scenery, the director, and the audience. And just as the shadow can never be the light, the story I tell can never be the Supreme Truth, but perhaps through these pages there can be a momentary taste of the elixir of eternity.

When Billy said “I am going from somewhere to somewhere else and I will never return,” it occurred to me that he was saying goodbye.

Walking by the bay at sunrise, I could feel Billy everywhere—in the gentle spring breeze, the blossoming trees, the blue-gray water. His spirit was all around me, but something was different. I whispered his name, but there was no answer. I didn't have access to him.

I was frightened. Billy had become so much a part of my life. He was my teacher, the light on my path. It had become normal to hear him talking to me, joking around, giving me big brotherly advice. Then, I heard his voice from very far away. . .
I will never leave you
.

I got in my car and drove to the ocean, hoping its vast expanse would comfort me and make me feel closer to Billy. I stood before the breaking waves and heard Billy again:
I will never leave you
. . . and then he was gone.

There were so many more things I wanted to talk to him about, so much more I wanted to learn. I tried to taste the sweetness of the elixir on my lips like he had told me to do, but I couldn't. I wanted more.

T
he summer seemed pale and lifeless. I tried to work on this book, but I was too sad. I wanted Billy back. People who knew about Billy were in awe of my experience, but for me the book wasn't as important as our relationship. And now he was gone for good . . . merged into the void of non-beingness.

Autumn came. Billy often said that nature is healing. I soothed my loneliness by walking in the woods, swimming in the bay, bathing in the light of the moon and stars. I began reviewing Billy's notes. How could I be sad? Billy lives in this book. He will never really be gone because he is now part of all that is, including me.

Late November, when the trees were surrendering their burnished leaves, just before sunrise I saw a thick ray of white light above me.

Good morning
. Billy's voice was quite changed, its pitch much lower. I could tell he was speaking to me from somewhere much further away, but I heard him clearly.

A single eddy of light, whiter than any white imaginable, broke into the Void to pull me back into
existence. Like an embryo in a womb, I again became the soul that lived all my lives.

The light ray propelled my un-embodied soul out of the Void and into a region where the light is so thick it falls like snow. I moved through this snowy light, the light that reveals the flawless nature of the Absolute, until I arrived at the present moment.