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Jenny Lethbridge is a natural born clairvoyant and healer. Jenny is helped in her work by the healing guides from the Casa of John of God. A popular Hong Kong reader and healer for many years with a primary focus until recently on health issues, Jenny now feels it is time to return to a more spiritual platform. Today, Jenny integrates the two mediums within a single session.
From Death to Life - Reuben's Near-Death Experience
An Excerpt from AnnaMaria Hemingway's new book 'Practicing Conscious Living and Dying.'
When I was thirteen years old, I decided there was no purpose to my life, much less power of purpose. But I did have a firm resolve -- to commit suicide.
I was unconcerned about any idea of an afterlife, and didn’t believe there was one. Ending my life was something I had thought about, and it seemed an obvious decision. I was physically and emotionally abused, and sensed my mother didn’t want me. We were also struggling financially as a family, and I believed myself to be a burden. My grandmother was raising me, and she was already ninety-seven. There was nothing to look forward to and nobody to connect with; there seemed no reason to carry on living. It was an easy decision to make. I locked myself in the bathroom, disconnected the hose from the old gas heater, put a towel over my head, lay down and waited to die.
I felt myself floating away and entering a very dark tunnel, and I could see lights flashing by me, but I could only concentrate on this tiny light on the horizon. I was flying incredibly fast, and then popped out of the tunnel into…light! In the distance, there was a fence with a gate. An old man was opening the gate. He was communicating with me, but no words were spoken. “You can come and look,” was the message he conveyed. There was a lake of water between us, which seemed to be blocking my way, but then I immediately found myself standing next to him. He floated off to the left, as I started to hear the most beautiful music playing, and then suddenly the old man had vanished. There was only a field of flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. The colors were so majestic, and as I gazed at one of the flowers, I realized it was their color that was singing and making the music.
It was all so beautiful. For the first time I was totally loved and a part of everything; this was my home. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. This love was unconditional, something that I had never experienced before. I was loved just as I was.
Then I felt myself floating up again and as the field of flowers disappeared, I heard the sound of flowing water. People were coming towards me and communicating how glad they were to see me. My heart was full of happiness, and I wanted to race over in their direction, but found that I couldn’t move. Most of them looked at me lovingly, and then carried on with their activities, except for one woman. She was slim and beautiful, and wore a distinctive old-fashioned dress. I felt strongly drawn to run towards her. But an immensely powerful light came between us, and I “heard” the words, “You cannot touch her - you must not reach out to her,” and she faded away.
Then another entity approached and advised me: “This is not the right way to come here.”
“No,” I replied, “I know this isn’t the way.”
The “voice” continued, saying, “It’s not time for you yet; you have to go back.”
Immediately, I was back in my body, and I could hear my grandmother banging on the bathroom door. Somebody else was trying to break in through the window. I was taken to the doctor, but have no conscious memory of what happened there.
I tried to talk to my grandmother about my experience, only to be told, “You must never mention this to anyone -- just put it out of your mind.” She was, however, intrigued by the woman I described, and would keep asking me questions about her. I refused to answer, but years later learned that she had been my aunt, the daughter of my grandmother, who had died prior to my birth.
I was convinced that my experience was real, in spite of what others thought, and now knew for certain that unconditional love existed, and that I had been sent back for a purpose and had something important to accomplish.
Forty years passed. I established a financially rewarding career in real estate and banking. Although conscientious in my working life towards my clients, my first priority was to myself and the company I worked for. I wasn’t a very fulfilled person. Somehow, the unconditional love experienced in my NDE seemed to be in short supply. My energy was channeled into leading the life of a workaholic, and along the way I had managed to survive two failed marriages. My lifestyle made me a prime candidate for a heart attack, but I took no notice of the signals my body was giving me. One Saturday morning, I felt an immense pain around my chest, and was forced to go to the doctor for a check-up. He informed me that I was experiencing minor heart attacks.
“We need to get you to a hospital immediately for more tests,” he said. “I’ll drive you over there.”
“No,” I replied. “I have an important meeting to attend. This will have to wait until later.”
Very reluctantly, he administered some nitroglycerine and wrote out a prescription for me to get filled. “You must take this immediately,” he said, “before you do anything else, and you must go to hospital as soon as you have finished your meeting.”
I agreed to pacify him, but just jumped straight into my car and got back to work; the hospital check-in could wait. Arriving home that evening, my heart couldn’t wait, as I was once more struck by an explosive, paralyzing pain. I was in bad trouble, and was alone. The nearest phone was in the living room, which now seemed a hundred miles away. With great difficulty, I started the long journey down the hallway from the bedroom. After a few faltering steps, I doubled over and bumped against the wall and watched the floor come up to hit my face. I must have blacked out in mid-air, and never felt the impact.
I came round in total darkness, straining to see and wondered, “What’s happening here? There must be some light from the street or the living room.” But there was nothing other than an eerie silence. Stranger still, I had lost all sense of feeling and upon trying to call out, discovered that I couldn’t make a sound. I began to feel terrified and thought, “Oh God, I don’t belong in this place,” and started to pray for help.
Then I saw a flash of light, like a spark coming off a flint, and off in the distance detected a tiny flicker like a candle flame. The thought I repeated to myself was, “Don’t blow out - don’t blow out.” Instantly, two more lights appeared and as they moved closer, I saw they had human forms.
One of the beings said, “We’ve come a long way for you.”
I thought, “Thank goodness help has finally arrived.”
I was escorted upwards by the beings and out of the dark abyss. We were moving very fast, as the three human-shaped lights were communicating with me. Although it was difficult to really understand them, I knew they were imparting important information, as intense waves of love washed over my whole being. Then I became aware of myriads of other lights, just like me.
We were all heading in the same direction and one of the beings told me: “You’re going back home; you’re going back to God.”
All the lights were merging together, as I began to witness the start of creation and the beginning of life. The darkness began to recede and a brilliant light started to take its place; it appeared as a mountain of numinous light, like a crystal shining across the entire sky. Although brighter than the sun, I could look directly into its radiant depths.
Then a voice said, “Now you know that everything is love,” and the voice itself was love, as it whispered, “You’re one of mine.” The feelings of bliss and ecstasy were overwhelming and as the light penetrated me, I knew there was nothing but light and that the darkness was only an illusion.
Music started to play, the music I had longed to hear again and, in an instant, a life review was laid out before me. My entire past flashed before me - all the people I had touched, and all the things I had changed just by existing on the planet earth. It wasn’t so much about anything I had said or done in my life; it was all to do with simply being there, and being a part of everything that had been created. I understood that I was connected to everything that exists in the universe. The colors were pulsating, and the music sounded magnificent. I knew this was my real home.
But the voice interrupted this wonderful euphoria saying, “Your work is not done.”
I protested, and replied, “Not done? You mean I have to go back?”
Just as I felt that I couldn’t bear such a let-down, I found myself on the floor of my apartment, in terrible pain. My clock read 4:45 a.m. More than five hours had elapsed, and the phone was mysteriously off the hook, as an operator’s voice repeated, “Don’t hang up; help is on the way.”
I heard sirens and a great commotion of clanging and banging, and then I was floating up near the ceiling looking down at seven people working on my body. I tried to shout, “Leave that body alone; don’t touch it,” but nobody could hear me.
I was aware of what they were saying though, and could see what they were doing. Later I talked to four EMTs about what took place. They were astonished; they told me that I had been totally unconscious and that there was no plausible way for me to have any knowledge of the events I related to them.
As the paramedics continued working on me, I started to drift away and could hear someone outside the building calling my name. The neighbors had gathered out on the street and immediately, I was right in the middle of them, listening to their conversation, and was aware of their innermost feelings.
Then my thoughts turned towards my brother, who was up in Oregon. All at once, I was in his house, listening, watching and feeling, while he and his wife were in the kitchen. It was an awkward situation. He was going on a fishing trip, and she was unhappy about it. She wasn’t talking to my brother; she was having this dialogue with herself about what she would do when he was gone. Afterwards, they both confirmed that the scene had taken place exactly as I had described it.
Next, I found myself back in California and inside an ambulance, which was speeding along with the siren blaring. I was still not in my body, but was in the instrument panel looking at all the little colored wires, and also trying to tell the driver the best route to the hospital. There was a fork in the road, and I knew instinctively that we should turn left, even though I had never been to the hospital before. While I was still in the ambulance, I could see what was going on in the emergency room, and watched the medical team prepare to work on me.
Once my body had arrived at the hospital, a nurse started to thump my chest, as another inserted an IV. I tried to insist that they left me alone, but they lifted me onto the operating table and hooked me up to all sorts of equipment. This was the moment when I reentered my body.
Upon regaining physical consciousness, medical personnel urged me to sign a consent form agreeing to immediate surgery to unblock my arteries. Knowing intuitively what I had to do, I said, “I can’t. I can’t destroy my body; I have to finish my work.” I couldn’t explain to them all I had gone through in my near-death experience. Eventually, they gave up trying to convince me to have the surgery, and I was sent home with a shopping bag full of drugs. Before leaving, however, the surgeon admonished me saying, “You’ll be back within three months, and you won’t have a choice about the operation.” But somehow, I wasn’t worried.
I returned home and started to recuperate. After a few weeks, I remembered that I’d been sent back to accomplish something, and knew there was work left to do, but had no clue as to what it was supposed to be. I was staring into the bathroom mirror and said, “God I can’t do the job. I don’t know what to do.” A response came immediately, “It’s the drugs; get rid of them. The medication is blurring your mind.” I followed the instructions, and just threw them all away.
At a check-up the doctor was shocked by my action. He said, “You can’t stop those drugs cold turkey. They’re potent and you need to wean yourself off them.” However, he couldn’t deny that things seemed absolutely fine. He carried out some tests, and much to his amazement, everything was back to normal, although he stated his categorical belief that I would never work again with my preexisting condition. But I knew otherwise, for I had discovered a new profound sense of purpose to carry out my still unknown mission.
There was nothing much to do while recuperating except to read the newspapers and watch T.V. I was aware from the news that several prominent people had died of heart attacks, which led me to wonder, “Why them and not me?” I remembered the awful feeling of being alone in my apartment, when I was dying, and thought, “There must be a lot of people who don’t have anyone with them when they die.” In a flash I understood. This was the work the omniscient Voice had sent me back to do. I was immediately sure of it, and instantly knew that this work and service would provide me with the means to manifest the love experienced in my NDE, which I now understood was at the heart of everything.
I had some savings to live on and moved into a new apartment. Then, shortly after, a neighbor invited me to attend a lecture on practical spirituality. While attending the meeting, I noticed a brochure describing the Nightingale Project, which provided services to the dying. I was interested in contacting them, but didn’t follow up. Some time later, I went to an unrelated event and, to my considerable surprise, discovered that Project Nightlight had its office in the same building. After meeting with the Director, I began volunteer work with the dying.
In the course of this work, I met a lady called Susan Storch, an R.N. who had studied all aspects of conscious living and dying and care for the dying, at a private university near Los Angeles. The school, founded by Dr. Benito Reyes, was spreading the word about NDEs and the existence of the afterlife in various ways. They had been bridging the gap between science and spirituality through conferences featuring renowned workers and researchers in the field, such as Drs. Kubler-Ross, Moody, and Ring. I now felt certain that I needed to include this same indispensable dimension in my own work, and so completed their thanatology program.
A few years later, I was the volunteer coordinator at the Encino Hospice. There was a young man whom I had been visiting for about three months, and he had taken a turn for the worse. My office was only ten minutes from the hospice, so I visited him after work. We talked for about an hour, but then he grew tired and needed to sleep. The nurse who was on duty agreed to call me before her shift ended, in order to let me know how Johnny was doing.
The following morning, I woke up with an urgent feeling to return to the hospice, even though I had not been called. When I arrived, Nurse Mary advised me that Johnny was not waking up. I called out his name to let him know that I was at his side. He tried to open his eyes, but was too weak. His breathing was very shallow and his hand was cool when I took it in my hand. I told him not to be afraid, to relax and feel all the love waiting for him. I felt Mary come into the room and stand behind me.
I motioned to her not to speak, as I continued to tell Johnny that he would not be alone at any time and would find love and peace. There was a tear slowly rolling down his cheek, as he took a deep breath. Then his face turned light and there was a palpable surge of energy and an essence of many colors that lifted and faded away. Johnny never exhaled, and I thanked him for letting me come to say farewell. Both Mary and I felt and saw the kaleidoscope of colors that formed Johnny’s aura. This was not an isolated experience, but was one of the more memorable, which confirmed that there is so much more for us to learn.
Today, I work full time as a spiritual counselor and thanatologist at the Roze Room hospice in Los Angeles. I am also the facilitator for the Los Angeles Chapter of the International Association for Near-Death Studies - an organization devoted to research and education pertaining to all aspects of NDE, and which offers support to those who may have a difficult time integrating their experience, and to those who may want to know more about the subject.
When people ask me to share my beliefs following my illuminating NDE, I describe them in the following way: We all get attached to our physical bodies, but it isn’t the deepest truth of who we are. People don’t enjoy life, because they worry all the time - about material possessions, about the future, about something they want or don’t want. It’s a funny thing: we strive for perfection in our lives, but we don’t realize that perfection already exists, and that we don’t have to go searching for it. The secret lies in reversing our usual order of business, which is always striving to become something more; instead, we can try to experiment with becoming less and less, until we are nothing at all. Then we will discover an amazing truth: in reality, we are everything.
My job as a spiritual counselor is to help dying people and their families understand that the body is merely clothing for the soul. When it is discarded, we move on to a wonderful place that is awaiting our arrival. As death approaches, many people are asking for a miracle, and I tell them, “Death is the miracle you’re looking for.”
Practicing Conscious Living and Dying: Stories of the Eternal Continuum of Consciousness
Publisher: o-books (o-books.com)
Publication date: Jan 08
ISBN: 9781846940774
21 April to 3 May
An Excerpt from AnnaMaria Hemingway's new book 'Practicing Conscious Living and Dying.'
Then I felt myself floating up again and as the field of flowers disappeared, I heard the sound of flowing water. People were coming towards me and communicating how glad they were to see me. My heart was full of happiness, and I wanted to race over in their direction, but found that I couldn’t move. Most of them looked at me lovingly, and then carried on with their activities, except for one woman. She was slim and beautiful, and wore a distinctive old-fashioned dress. I felt strongly drawn to run towards her. But an immensely powerful light came between us, and I “heard” the words, “You cannot touch her - you must not reach out to her,” and she faded away.
I came round in total darkness, straining to see and wondered, “What’s happening here? There must be some light from the street or the living room.” But there was nothing other than an eerie silence. Stranger still, I had lost all sense of feeling and upon trying to call out, discovered that I couldn’t make a sound. I began to feel terrified and thought, “Oh God, I don’t belong in this place,” and started to pray for help.
I had some savings to live on and moved into a new apartment. Then, shortly after, a neighbor invited me to attend a lecture on practical spirituality. While attending the meeting, I noticed a brochure describing the Nightingale Project, which provided services to the dying. I was interested in contacting them, but didn’t follow up. Some time later, I went to an unrelated event and, to my considerable surprise, discovered that Project Nightlight had its office in the same building. After meeting with the Director, I began volunteer work with the dying.
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