Encouragement

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Ambrose was lying on his bed in the afternoon when he drowned on August 26, 1972. He was forty years old. Amazingly he was still lying on his bed when he revived on August 26, 1972.

His life, until then, had been a throng of emotions powered by a hammering bio-compulsion engine.

Since childhood he had heard the Elders talk about something called “free-will.” They said -insisted- that every person can choose right or wrong, good or bad, left or right, every action and reaction. Or a person can make no choice at all. He heard their words, but he couldn’t understand. “Free-will” was a meaningless phrase. “Free will” was as alien to Ambrose’s as age thirty is to a ten year old. All Ambrose knew was to go with the daily flow. Options were not an option. He could not discriminate, analyze and choose.

Ambrose had been raised in an ancient church. He was taught to fear and obey human authority: “be nice”, “get along with everyone” and always say “yes” to everyone in need. As he grew into life, “no” was not in his personal vocabulary. He was a victim of his feelings, and of evil people with their own agendas.

Ambrose came to many forks in the road of life. And he tried to take the path most golden. Often, however, he took both paths at the same time. If two job opportunities were offered, he would opt to take both, and adjust his time to do them. He never stopped to think. No pause to refresh and ponder choices. No logical, thoughtful, premeditated action plan. Not even a flip of a coin: heads this path, tails that one. Ambrose simply wandered the rabbit trails of life, sniffing out roles amidst the droppings of previous job holders.

An amazing thing about Ambrose was that he could do up to three jobs, simultaneously, and equally well. He operated a part-time charitable enterprise after 8-12 hours work at his job with whatever company he was working for at the time. By night courses and seminars he completed high school through post graduate school. All this while supporting an intact family, and “partying.” No one had ever said Ambrose was not intelligent. They just said he was D U M B.

His mother had taken him after her separation from his father to her ancestral home. A foreign country to the north. In those days he was known as a bastard. Her immigrant parents did not believe she had married while away in America. Consequently, from age two to age six, Ambrose served time in a local orphanage.

His mother remarried and had two more children. She prayed silently to hurry the day when Ambrose would say “Bye Mom, distant places are calling.” But his mother had never really plumbed the depth of Ambrose’ dumbness. He never knew he was twenty-two years old until they told him it was time to go away and visit his pedophile father who had recently got out of prison.That’s when he left home to find his destiny.

Ambrose had begun serious drinking at sixteen. He graduated from beer and wine to rum and whisky. Then to 150 proof grain alcohol, straight. By the late 1960's his life had devolved to include various chewables, swallowables, and drinkables. He never got to injectables. His other activities are best left unmentioned.

He prayed, attended revival tent meetings that he passed while traveling for work. He asked forgiveness of God for all his mistakes. He was counseled by Pastors. But for more than twenty years no Spiritual relief came. He was drawn to sin like iron to a magnet.

Through it all Ambrose was able to work full time, maintain a family, and live licentiously, simultaneously. He seemed to be able to flow among parallel universes: one of family values, steady work, church and study and the dark, filthy world of lust, wildness, and moral decay.

Until August 26, 1972, he had blindly, unwittingly, exemplified the adage, “When skating on thin ice, move fast.” That day the ice broke. Well, it didn’t exactly break. He was so close to Hell that the ice melted under him.He began drowning in an ocean of his massively insubstantial, confused, and decaying existence. And he had not 'willed' it to happen. It just did.

His drowning was real and vivid . . . an actual submersion. Down, down, down he sank towards an indefinite, bottomless expanse. After sinking to a reasonable depth, according to the criterion of whatever power was orchestrating his demise, he began to rise. Necklaces of pearl-like bubbles accompanied his ascent. Small bubbles, medium bubbles, large bubbles chugging and streaming from unknown vents far, far below. Ambrose’s life broke through the surface of the sea. Amazingly, the massive ocean of fear that he had wallowed in from birth, suddenly was beneath him He soared into space. He was free from the ocean of fear that had gripped his life since he was born. He had felt fear leave him as he rose through the ocean depth.

But that was only the beginning.

Ambrose immediately began a journey upward through a gigantic tunnel. He was propelled - no, gently wafted - by some unseen and unknowable force. Violent, dirty, dark gray cloud-shaped sides surrounded him. Figures like other humans were being tossed around, writhing and grimacing and clawing the sides of the phenomena. Inside the funnel where he was, there was only a calm, gentle, but speedy, upward movement.

Above he saw a white speck of light that became progressively larger. His essence, or whatever, was drawn effortlessly, peacefully into the light. Ambrose just let it happen. Actually he had no choice. Just like his life, choices had never been an option.


Ambrose merged with the cosmic brilliance far brighter than Sol Invictus . . . the Unconquerable Sun god of both the old and new Roman Empires. It was more soul fulfilling than Juno Moneta, goddess of the global financial empire..
Then Ambrose lost awareness. When he awoke the next morning, he was at peace with his life. Without a care in the world, elated, excited, and happy.

What had happened to Ambrose? Well, some people say he had a near death experience (NDE). Other people say he had an out of body experience (OBE). Still others talk of a “life epiphany.” Or that he simply “reinvented” himself. None of these ideas explain what had happened (and is still happening.) Prophets and sages, however, who study how the Unknowable One works in each willing person’s life, smile knowingly. Ambrose had become a ‘regenerated’ man. He was being born again.

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From that day forward, Ambrose has been a changing man. Booze, drugs, “other things”, lower nature activities, all have been falling away like old snake skin during shedding season. A freer, wiser man emerges after each shedding. A man who thinks before doing, chooses carefully and knows he has free will to select his paths. All fear is gone.

Recently, a friend who knew not Ambrose in the “olden days”, before he drowned and came back, asked him, “Ambrose, what things in life would you die for?” Ambrose replied, rather seriously, yet lightly, “Friend, I have already died because I had been captured by ‘things’. For some mysterious reason, I have been given an opportunity to choose to build a new Ambrose. There is no thing in this life that I would or could die for . . . except freedom in all of its shapes and forms. Everything else is scenery and atmosphere to decorate life’s stage. An actor doesn’t take these things home when he leaves the set. I have never yet seen an Armoured Truck, or a Moving Van follow a hearse to the graveyard.”

Ambrose smiled at his friend, turned, chuckled for some personal reason, and quietly ambled away.

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