On Nathan History and Spirituality.

I was doing origami at work today. Somehow we (my coworkers and I) got onto the topic of the afterlife. I was asked why I believe that life continues. I did not know how to answer it, but tonight, at four O'Clock in the morning, the answer came to me. It's going to sound crazy but I swear to you it is true.

One night I awoke calmly from my slumber in a hospital bed. A boy, that slept in the bed next to mine, was walking towards the door from his bed. A warm serene man held him by the hand. Much like you would by crossing the street with your young child. The two of them stopped. The man approached by bed. He touched my arm and said to me with a smile that almost matched the glow of his eyes. I felt warm all over as he said: "You're going to be just fine." The room I was in seemed to shift or phase back into reality. Where the man had touched my arm was a nurse drawing blood. I was disorientated and a little confused. I looked to my left and my mother was sitting next to me crying. I asked her, as best a six-year-old who had really no idea what was going on, "what's wrong mommy?"

Every time I look at my mother I am reminded of this moment. This shared and powerful experience. My mother looked at me and she said that she was afraid I was going to die, and that she didn't want to lose me. She had already lost one child - Wesley, an older brother I never knew, and I could see, even then, she wouldn't be able to handle it. I looked at her and I could see everything that made her who she is. I think I remember smiling. I said: "Don't worry, Jesus told me everything was going to be fine."

I am not exactly certain but memory seems to remind me that the boy who was sleeping next to me had died. A couple days later I, who doctors said only stood a prayer of a chance, walked out of the hospital not completely well but alive nonetheless.

That moment in my life changed me forever. Children who are sick enough to die and witness their family members look upon them as if they will never see the child again grow up different. Children who are the recipients of the most powerful prayer a mother prays will not be the same as everyone else. They will not have a peer group. Everything to them will be sacred and wonderful. And truth? Well, they'll just have to look inside of themselves for it. I don't have words for it. I wish I could express it. They just become different. They become the fifth grader who meditates under a tree instead of plays handball, regardless of how much the other kids mock him. They stand up to bullies and make friends of the meek. They know the answer to deep internal questions but have words to express them. They talk to rocks and walk the streets by night because the moon has something to teach them.

As you can see, this moment, for all of it's greatness and wonder and pleasantries,  has equally messed me up. I do not find comfort in churches. Pagan rites bore me and atheist, pardon my french, piss me off.

I am not religious and when people ask me if I've found Jesus all I can do is smile at them. I do not believe in God. That does not mean what you think it does. I do not believe in belief. I do not know but I feel that at that moment in my childhood I was touched by God. If you could only wrap your mind around how much God loves everything and everyone, regardless of anything, you would want to kill yourself to be with God. (Don't kill yourself, just wait a while.)

I am consumed by seeking the truth. Stories of reincarnation, near death experiences, the nature of life. These are the things that make me most excited. I wish there was a way to make money at it.

I really do feel that I have a deeply privileged position in this matter. It is a position I am only now beginning to truly understand.