George Ritchie's NDE



An exemplary experience of 1943

In December 1943, 20-year-old George Ritchie was about to die of pneumonia, and for nine minutes he actually looked as dead. During this time he had an NDE, which profoundly struck Raymond Moody and led him to deepen the investigation of these experiences. Moody's first book, Life After Life, begins with this dedication: «To George Ritchie, M.D., and, through him, to the One whom he suggested». Ritchie's experience is therefore an emblematic case. The following report is part of Ritchie's book, Return from Tomorrow. (Source:

An OBE and a journey through the air

The men let go of my arms... I heard a click and a whirr. The whirr went on and on. It was getting louder. The whirr was inside my head and my knees were made of rubber. They were bending and I was falling and all the time the whirr grew louder. I sat up with a start. What time was it? I looked at the bedside table but they'd taken the clock away. In fact, where was any of my stuff? I jumped out of bed in alarm, looking for my clothes. My uniform wasn't on the chair. I turned around, then froze. Someone was lying in that bed. I took a step closer. He was quite a young man, with short brown hair, lying very still. But, the thing was impossible! I myself had just gotten out of that bed! For a moment I wrestled with the mystery of it. It was too strange to think about – and anyway I didn't have the time. I went back past the offices and stepped out into the corridor. A sergeant was coming along it carrying an instrument tray covered with a cloth. Probably he didn't know anything, but I was so glad to find someone awake that I started toward him. «Excuse me, Sergeant, – I said. – You haven't seen the ward boy for this unit, have you?». He didn't answer. Didn't even glance at me. He just kept coming, straight at me, not slowing down. «Look out!» I yelled, jumping out of his way. The next minute he was past me, walking away down the corridor as if he had never seen me, though how we had kept from colliding I didn't know.

And then I saw something that gave me a new idea. Farther down the corridor was one of the heavy metal doors that led to the outside. I hurried toward it. Even if I had missed that train, I'd find some way of getting to Richmond! Almost without knowing it I found myself outside, racing swiftly along, traveling faster in fact than I'd ever moved in my life. Looking down I was astonished to see not the ground, but the tops of mesquite bushes beneath me. Already Camp Barkeley seemed to be far behind me as I sped over the dark frozen desert. My mind kept telling me that what I was doing was impossible, and yet... it was happening. I was going to Richmond; somehow I had known that from the moment I burst through that hospital door. Going to Richmond a hundred times faster than any train on Earth could take me. Almost immediately I noticed myself slowing down. Just below me now, where two streets came together, I caught a flickering blue glow. It came from a neon sign over the door of a red-roofed one-story building with a Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer sign propped in the front window. «Cafe», the jittering letters over the door read, and from the windows light streamed onto the pavement.

Staring down at it, I realized I had stopped moving altogether. Finding myself somehow suspended fifty feet in the air was an even stranger feeling than the whirlwind flight had been. But I had no time to puzzle over it, for down the sidewalk toward the allnight cafe a man came briskly walking. At least, I thought, I could find out from him what town this was and in what direction I was heading. Even as the idea occurred to me – as though thought and motion had become the same thing – I found myself down on the sidewalk, hurrying along at the stranger's side. He was a civilian, maybe forty or forty-five, wearing a topcoat but no hat. He was obviously thinking hard about something because he never glanced my way as I fell into step beside him. «Can you tell me, please, – I said, – what city this is?». He kept right on walking. «Please sir! – I said, speaking louder, – I'm a stranger here and I'd appreciate it if...». We reached the cafe and he turned, reaching for the door handle. Was the fellow deaf? I put out my left hand to tap his shoulder. There was nothing there.

Reflections and conjectures

I stood there in front of the door, gaping after him as he opened it and disappeared inside. It had been like touching thin air. Like no one had been there at all. And yet I had distinctly seen him, even to the beginnings of a black stubble on his chin where he needed a shave. I backed away from the mystery of the substanceless man and leaned up against the guy wire of a telephone pole to think things through. My body went through that guy wire as though it too had not been there. There on the sidewalk of that unknown city, I did some incredulous thinking. The strangest, most difficult thinking I had ever done. The man in the cafe, this telephone pole... suppose they were perfectly normal. Suppose I was the one who was changed, somehow. What if in some impossible, unimaginable way, I lost my... hardness. My ability to grasp things, to make contact with the world. Even to be seen! The fellow just now. It was obvious he never saw or heard me. And suddenly I remembered the young man I had seen in the bed in that little hospital room. What if that had been... me? Or anyhow, the material, concrete part of myself that in some unexplainable way I'd gotten separated from. What if the form which I had left lying in the hospital room in Texas was my own? And if it were, how could I get back to it again? Why had I ever rushed off so unthinkingly?

I was moving again, speeding away from the city. Below me was the broad river. I appeared to be going back, back in the direction I had come from, and it seemed to me I was flashing across space even faster than before. Hills, lakes, farms slipped away beneath me as I sped in an unswerving straight line over the dark nighttime land. I was standing in front of the base hospital. And so began one of the strangest searches that can ever have taken place: the search for myself. From one ward to another of that enormous complex I rushed, pausing in each small room, stooping over the occupant of the bed, hurrying on. I backed toward the doorway. The man in that bed was dead! I felt the same reluctance I had the previous time at being in a room with a dead person. But... if that was my ring, then – then it was me, the separated part of me, lying under that sheet. Did that mean that I was... It was the first time in this entire experience that the word death occurred to me in connection with what was happening. But I wasn't dead! How could I be dead and still be awake? Thinking. Experiencing. Death was different. Death was... I didn't know. Blanking out. Nothingness. I was me, wide awake, only without a physical body to function in.

A Being made of light and love

Frantically I clawed at the sheet, trying to draw it back, trying to uncover the figure on the bed. All my efforts did not even stir a breeze in the silent little room. Suddenly I was aware that it was brighter, a lot brighter, than it had been. I stared in astonishment as the brightness increased, coming from nowhere, seeming to shine everywhere at once. All the light bulbs in the ward couldn't give off that much light. All the bulbs in the world couldn't! It was impossibly bright: it was like a million welders' lamps all blazing at once. «I'm glad I don't have physical eyes at this moment, – I thought. – This light would destroy the retina in a tenth of a second». «No,  – I corrected myself, – not the light. He. He would be too bright to look at». For now I saw that it was not light but a man who had entered the room, or rather, a man made out of light, though this seemed no more possible to my mind than the incredible intensity of the brightness that made up his form. The instant I perceived him, a command formed itself in my mind. «Stand up!». The words came from inside me, yet they had an authority my mere thoughts had never had. I got to my feet and as I did came the stupendous certainty: «You are in the presence of the Son of God». "If this was the Son of God, then his name was Jesus. This person was power itself, older than time and yet more modern than anyone I had ever met.

Above all, with that same mysterious inner certainty, I knew that this man loved me. Far more even than power, what emanated from this presence was unconditional love. An astonishing love. A love beyond my wildest imagining. This love knew every unlovable thing about me – the quarrels with my stepmother, my explosive temper, the sex thoughts I could never control, every mean, selfish thought and action since the day I was born – and accepted me just the same. When I say he knew everything about me, this was simply an observable fact. For into that room along with his radiant presence – simultaneously, though in telling about it I have to describe them one by one – had also entered every single episode of my entire life. Everything that had ever happened to me was simply there, in full view, contemporary and current, all seemingly taking place at the same time. Every detail of twenty years of living was there to be looked at. The good, the bad, the high points, the run-of-the-mill. And with this all-inclusive view came a question. It was implicit in every scene and, like the scenes themselves, seemed to proceed from the living light beside me. «What did you do with your life?».

The life review and the inner evaluation

Desperately I looked around me for something that would seem worthwhile in the light of this blazing reality. But there was only an endless, short-sighted, clamorous concern for myself. Hadn't I ever gone beyond my own immediate interests, done anything
other people would recognize as valuable? And all at once the question itself built up in me. It wasn't fair! Of course I hadn't done anything with my life! I hadn't had time. How could you judge a person who hadn't even started? The answering thought, however, held no trace of judgment. «Death, – the word was infinitely loving, – can come at any age». «What about the insurance money coming when I'm seventy?». The words were out, in this strange realm where communication took place by thought instead of speech, before I could call them back. If I'd suspected before that there was mirth in the presence beside me, now I was sure of it: the brightness seemed to vibrate and shimmer with a kind of holy laughter – not at me and my silliness, not a mocking laughter, but a mirth that seemed to say that in spite of all error and tragedy, joy was more lasting still.

And in the ecstasy of that laughter I realized that it was I who was judging the events around us so harshly. It was I who saw them as trivial, self-centered, unimportant. No such condemnation came from the glory shining around me. He was not blaming or reproaching. He was simply... loving me. Filling the world with himself and yet somehow attending to me personally. Waiting for my answer to the question that still hung in the dazzling air. «What have you done with your life to show me?». The question, like everything else proceeding from him, had to do with love. How much have you loved with your life? Have you loved others as I am loving you? Totally? Unconditionally? Hearing the question like that, I saw how foolish it was even to try to find an answer in the scenes around us. Why, I hadn't known love like this was possible. Someone should have told me, I thought indignantly! «I did tell you». But how? Still wanting to justify myself: how could he have told me and I not heard? «I told you by the life I lived. I told you by the death I died. And, if you keep your eyes on me, you will see more...».

The city of suicides

With a start I noticed that we were moving. I hadn't been aware of leaving the hospital, but now it was nowhere in sight. The living events of my life which had crowded round us had vanished too: instead we seemed to be high above the earth, speeding together toward a distant pinprick of light. The distant pinprick resolved itself into a large city toward which we seemed to be descending. It was still nighttime but smoke poured from factory chimneys and many buildings had lights burning on every floor. There was an ocean or a large lake beyond the lights; it could have been Boston, Detroit, Toronto, certainly no place I had ever been, but obviously I thought as we came close enough to see the crowded streets, one where war industries were operating around the clock.

I noticed a certain phenomenon repeatedly: people unaware of others right beside them. I saw a group of assembly-line workers gathered around a coffee canteen. One of the women asked another for a cigarette, begged her in fact, as though she wanted it more than anything in the world. But the other one, chatting with her friends, ignored her. She took a pack of cigarettes from her coveralls, and without ever offering it to the woman who reached for it so eagerly, took one out and lit it. Fast as a striking snake the woman who had been refused snatched at the lighted cigarette in the other one's mouth. Again she grabbed at it. And again... With a little chill of recognition I saw that she was unable to grip it. Like me, in fact, she was dead. In one house a younger man followed an older one from room to room. «I'm sorry, Pa! – he kept saying. – I didn't know what it would do to Mama! I didn't understand». But though I could hear him clearly, it was obvious that the man he was speaking to could not. The old man was carrying a tray into a room where an elderly woman sat in bed. «I'm sorry, Pa, – the young man said again. – I'm sorry, Mama». Endlessly, over and over, to ears that could not hear.

Several times we paused before similar scenes. A boy trailing a teenaged girl through the corridors of a school. «I'm sorry, Nancy!». A middle-aged woman begging a gray-haired man to forgive her. «What are they so sorry for, Jesus? – I pleaded. – Why do they keep talking to people who can't hear them?». Then from the light beside me came the thought: «They are suicides, chained to every consequence of their act». Gradually I began to notice something else. All of the living people we were watching were surrounded by a faint luminous glow, almost like an electrical field over the surface of their bodies. This luminosity moved as they moved, like a second skin made out of pale, scarcely visible light. At first I thought it must be reflected brightness from the person at my side. But the buildings we entered gave off no reflection, neither did inanimate objects. And then I realized that the non-physical beings didn't either. My own un-solid body, I now saw, was without this glowing sheath.

The luminous cocoon of the physical body

At this point the light drew me inside a dingy bar and grill near what looked like a large naval base. A crowd of people, many of them sailors, lined the bar three deep, while others jammed wooden booths along the wall. Though a few were drinking beer, most of them seemed to be belting whiskies as fast as the two perspiring bartenders could pour them. Then I noticed a striking thing. A number of the men standing at the bar seemed unable to lift their drinks to their lips. Over and over I watched them clutch at their shot glasses, hands passing through the solid tumblers, through the heavy wooden counter top, through the very arms and bodies of the drinkers around them. And these men, every one of them, lacked the aureole of light that surrounded the others. Then, the cocoon of light must be a property of physical bodies only. The dead, we who had lost our solidness, had lost this second skin as well. And it was obvious that these living people, the light-surrounded ones, the ones actually drinking, talking, jostling each other, could neither see the desperately thirsty disembodied beings among them, nor feel their frantic pushing to get at those glasses. Though it was also clear to me, watching, that the non-solid people could both see and hear each other. Furious quarrels were constantly breaking out among them over glasses that none could actually get to his lips.

I thought I had seen heavy drinking at fraternity parties in Richmond, but the way civilians and servicemen at this bar were going at it beat everything. I watched one young sailor rise unsteadily from a stool, take two or three steps, and sag heavily to the floor. Two of his buddies stooped down and started dragging him away from the crush. But that was not what I was looking at. I was staring in amazement as the bright cocoon around the unconscious sailor simply opened up. It parted at the very crown of his head and began peeling away from his head, his shoulders. Instantly, quicker than I'd ever seen anyone move, one of the insubstantial beings who had been standing near him at the bar was on top of him. He had been hovering like a thirsty shadow at the sailor's side, greedily following every swallow the young man made. Now he seemed to spring at him like a beast of prey. In the next instant, to my utter mystification, the springing figure had vanished. It all happened even before the two men had dragged their unconscious load from under the feet of those at the bar. One minute I'd distinctly seen two individuals; by the time they propped the sailor against the wall, there was only one. Twice more, as I stared, stupefied, the identical scene was repeated. A man passed out, a crack swiftly opened in the aureole round him, one of the non-solid people vanished as he hurled himself at that opening, almost as if he had scrambled inside the other man. Was that covering of light some kind of shield, then? Was it a protection against... against disembodied beings like myself? Presumably these substance-less creatures had once had solid bodies, as I myself had had. Suppose that when they had been in these bodies they had developed a dependence on alcohol that went beyond the physical. That became mental. Spiritual, even. Then when they lost that body, except when they could briefly take possession of another one, they would be cut off for all eternity from the thing they could never stop craving.

The hell of unfulfilled desires

An eternity like that – the thought sent a chill shuddering through me – surely that would be a form of hell. I had always thought of hell, when I thought of it at all, as a fiery place somewhere beneath the earth where evil people like Hitler would burn forever. But what if one level of hell existed right here on the surface – unseen and unsuspected by the living people occupying the same space. What if it meant remaining on earth but never again able to make contact with it. I thought of that woman who wanted that cigarette. To want most, to burn with most desire, where you were most powerless –- that would be hell indeed. Not would be, I realized with a start. Was. This was hell: And I was as much a part of it as these other discarnate creatures. I had died. I had lost my physical body. I existed now in a realm that would not respond to me in any way... There were two other things distinctly unique about the beings of this realm. Since hypocrisy is impossible because others know your thoughts the minute you think them, they tend to group with the ones who think the same way they do. In our own plane of the existence, earth, we have a saying, «Birds of a feather flock together». The main reason that they stick together is because it is too threatening to be with beings with whom you disagree when they know it.

One of the places we observed seemed to be a receiving station. Beings would arrive here oftentimes in a deep hypnotic sleep. I call it hypnotic because I realized they had put themselves in this state by their beliefs. Here were what I would call angels working with them trying to arouse them and help them realize God is truly a God of the living and that they did not have to lie around sleeping until Gabriel or someone came along blowing on a horn.

We were moving again. We had left the Navy base with its circumference of seedy streets and bars, and were now standing, in this dimension where travel seemed to take no time at all, on the edge of a wide, flat plain. So far in our journeying we had visited places where the living and the dead existed side by side: indeed where disembodied beings, completely unsuspected by the living, hovered right on top of the physical things and people where their desire was focused. Now, however, although we were apparently still somewhere on the surface of the earth, I could see no living man or woman. The plain was crowded, even jammed with hordes of ghostly discarnate beings; nowhere was there a solid, light-surrounded person to be seen. All of these thousands of people were apparently no more substantial than I myself. And they were the most frustrated, the angriest, the most completely miserable beings I had ever laid eyes on.

The hell of violence and perversion

«Lord Jesus! – I cried – where are we?». At first I thought we were looking at some great battlefield: everywhere spirits were locked in what looked like fights to the death, writhing, punching, gouging. No weapons of any sort, I saw as I looked closer, only bare hands and feet and teeth. And then I noticed that no one was apparently being injured. There was no blood, no bodies strewed on the ground. A blow that ought to have eliminated an opponent would leave him exactly as before. If I suspected that I was seeing hell, now I was sure of it. These creatures seemed locked into habits of mind and emotion, into hatred, lust, destructive thought-patterns. Even more hideous than the bites and kicks they exchanged, were the sexual abuses many were performing in feverish pantomime. Perversions I had never dreamed of were being vainly attempted all around us.

It was impossible to tell if the howls of frustration which reached us were actual sounds or only the transference of despairing thoughts. Indeed in this disembodied world it didn't seem to matter. Whatever anyone thought, however fleetingly or unwillingly, was instantly apparent to all around him, more completely than words could have expressed it, faster than sound waves could have carried it. And the thoughts most frequently communicated had to do with the superior knowledge, or abilities, or background of the thinker. «I told you so!» «I always knew!» «Didn't I warn you!» were shrieked into the echoing air over and over. With a feeling of sick familiarity I recognized here my own thinking. In these yelps of envy and wounded self-importance I heard myself all too well. Once again, however, no condemnation came from the presence at my side, only a compassion for these unhappy creatures that was breaking his heart. What was keeping them here? Why didn't each one just get up and leave? I could see no reason why the person being screamed at by that man with the contorted face didn't simply walk away. Or why that young woman didn't put a thousand miles between herself and the other one who was so furiously beating her with insubstantial fists? They couldn't actually hold onto their victims, any of these insanely angry beings. There were no fences. Nothing apparently prevented them from simply going off alone.

The consequences of overt thoughts

Unless – unless there was no alone in this realm of disembodied spirits. No private corners in a universe where there were no walls. No place that was not inhabited by other beings to whom one was totally exposed at all times. What was it going to be like, I thought with sudden panic, to live forever where my most private thoughts were not private at all? No disguising them, no covering them up, no way to pretend I was anything but what I actually was. How unbearable. Unless of course everyone around me had the same kind of thoughts. Unless there was a kind of consolation in finding others as loathsome as one's self, even if all we could do was hurl our venom at each other. Perhaps this was the explanation for this hideous plain. Perhaps in the course of eons or of seconds, each creature here had sought out the company of others as pride and hate-filled as himself, until together they formed this society of the damned. Perhaps it was not Jesus who had abandoned them, but they who had fled from the light that showed up their darkness. There were beings arguing over some religious or political point, trying to kill the ones who did not agree with them. I thought when I saw this, «No wonder our world is in such a mess and we have had so many tragic religious wars. No wonder this was breaking Christ's heart, the one who came to teach us peace and love».

The city of study and knowledge

We were moving again. First he had shown me a hellish realm, filled with beings trapped in some form of self-attention. Now behind, beyond, through all this I began to perceive a whole new realm! Enormous buildings stood in a beautiful sunny park that reminded me somewhat of a well-planned university. As we entered one of the buildings and doorways, the air was so hushed that I was actually startled to see people in the passageway. I could not tell if they were men or women, old or young, for all were
covered from head to foot in loose-flowing hooded cloaks which made me think vaguely of monks. But the atmosphere of the place was not at all as I imagined a monastery. It was more like some tremendous study center, humming with the excitement of great discovery. Everyone we passed in the wide halls and on the curving staircases seemed caught up in some all-engrossing activity; not many words were exchanged among them. And yet I sensed no unfriendliness between these beings, rather an aloofness of total concentration.

Whatever else these people might be, they appeared utterly and supremely self-forgetful – absorbed in some vast purpose beyond themselves. Through open doors I glimpsed at enormous rooms filled with complex equipment. In several of the rooms hooded figures bent over intricate charts and diagrams, or sat at the controls of elaborate consoles flickering with lights. Somehow I felt that some vast experiment was being pursued, perhaps dozens and dozens of such experiments. And something more... In spite of his obvious delight in the beings around us, I sensed that even this was not the ultimate, that he had far greater things to show me if only I could see. And so I followed him into other buildings of this domain of thought. We entered a studio where music of a complexity I couldn't begin to follow was being composed and performed. There were complicated rhythms, tones not on a scale I knew. «Why, –I found myself thinking. – Bach is only the beginning!».

Next we walked through a library the size of the whole University of Richmond. I gazed into rooms lined floor to ceiling with documents on parchment, clay, leather, metal, paper. «Here, – the thought occurred to me, – are assembled the important books of the universe». Immediately I knew this was impossible. How could books be written somewhere beyond the Earth! But the thought persisted, although my mind rejected it. «The key works of the universe», the phrase kept recurring as we roamed the domed reading rooms crowded with silent scholars. Then abruptly, at the door to one of the smaller rooms, almost an annex: «Here is the central thought of this Earth». «Is this... heaven, Lord Jesus?» I ventured. The calm, the brightness, they were surely heaven-like! So was the absence of self, of clamoring ego. «When these people were on earth did they grow beyond selfish desires?». «They grew, and they have kept on growing». The answer shone like sunlight in that intent and eager atmosphere. But if growth could continue, then this was not all. Then... there must be something even these serene beings lacked. And suddenly I wondered if it was the same thing missing in the lower realm. Were these selfless seeking creatures also failing in some degree to see Jesus? Or perhaps, to see him for himself? Bits and hints of him they surely had; obviously it was the truth they were so single-mindedly pursuing. But what if even a thirst for truth could distract from the truth himself, standing here in their midst while they searched for him in books and test tubes...

I didn't know. And next to his unutterable love, my own bewilderment, all the questions I wanted to ask, seemed incidental. Perhaps, I concluded at last, he cannot tell me more than I can see: perhaps there is nothing in me yet that could understand an explanation. It is this realm which removes forever the concept that we stop learning or progressing in knowledge when we die. I could call this realm the realm of research, or the mental realm or the realm of intellectual, scientific and religious knowledge. All would be correct. This is the realm where I believe the souls go who have developed the greatest interest in a particular field of life's endeavor, the ones who want to keep on researching and learning more in their particular fields. This gives hope to all people who want to keep learning and have established enough wisdom to realize we have just begun to scratch the surface in any field when we are on the earth's level of development.

"I became aware that the Christ was watching some souls in their study of the universe's religions and saw he did not judge any of them. They too were not judging the religions which they were studying but were interested in the many different ways the beings of the universe had attempted to come to understand their Creator. I suddenly realized how wrong it was for any of us on earth to judge another's approach to God or to feel we have the only answers. The moment that realization came into my mind it was followed by his thought placed in my mind: «You are right, for if I, LOVE, be lifted up, I shall draw all humanity unto me. If you come to know the Father, you will come to know me. If you come to know me you will come to know that LOVE includes all beings regardless of their race, creeds or color». The central fact, the all-adequate one, remained this personality at my side. Whatever additional facts he was showing me, he remained every moment the real focus of my attention. Up until this point I had had the impression that we were traveling – though in what manner I could not imagine – upon the Earth itself. Even what I had come to think of as a higher plane of deep thoughts and learning, was obviously not far distant from the physical plane where bodiless beings were still bound to a solid world. Now however, we seemed to have left the earth behind. And then I saw, infinitely far off, far too distant to be visible with any kind of sight I knew of, a city. A glowing, seemingly endless city, bright enough to be seen over all the unimaginable distance between. The brightness seemed to shine from the very walls and streets of this place, and from beings which I could now discern moving about within it. In fact, the city and everything in it seemed to be made of light, even as the figure at my side was made of light.

The city of light

At this time I had not yet read the Book of Revelation. I could only gape in awe at this faraway spectacle, wondering how bright each building, each inhabitant, must be to be seen over so many light-years of distance. Could these radiant beings, I wondered, amazed, be those who had indeed kept Jesus the focus of their lives? Was I seeing at last ones who had looked for him in everything? Looked so well and so closely that they had been changed into his very likeness? Even as I asked the question, two of the bright figures seemed to detach themselves from the city and start toward us, hurling themselves across that infinity with the speed of light. Now this was surprising because this was the first realm in which the inhabitants could see the Christ and me. Even more amazing, they exuded light almost as brilliant as the Christ. As the two beings approached us, I could also feel the love flowing from them toward us. The complete joy they showed at seeing the Christ was unmistakable.

Seeing these beings and feeling the joy, peace and happiness which swelled up from them made me feel that here was the place of all places, the top realm of all realms. The beings who inhabited it were full of love. This, I was and am convinced, is heaven. As marvelous as I thought the previous realm was, after glimpsing this new realm we were seeing, I began to understand for the first time what Paul was saying in 1 Corinthians 13 when he wrote: «If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing». I do not infer that the wonderful souls of the fourth realm did not have love because they did but not to the degree that the souls of this realm had reached.   

Possible future alternatives

But as fast as they came toward us, we drew away. Desperately I cried out to him not to leave me, to make me ready for that shining city, not to abandon me in this dark and narrow place. From that loneliest moment of my existence I had leapt into the most perfect belonging I had ever known. The light of Jesus had entered my life and filled it completely, and the idea of being separated from him was more than I could bear. Then he did a startling thing. He opened a corridor through time which showed me increasing natural disasters coming upon this Earth. There were more and more hurricanes and floods occurring over different areas of our planet. The earthquakes and volcanoes were increasing. We were becoming more and more selfish and self-righteous. Families were splitting, governments were breaking apart because people were thinking only of themselves. I saw armies marching on the United States from the south and explosions occurring over the entire world that were of a magnitude beyond my capacity to imagine. I realized if they continued, human life as we have known it could not continue to exist.      

Suddenly this corridor was closed off and a second corridor started to open through time. At the beginning they appeared very similar but the further the second one unfolded, the more different it became. The planet grew more peaceful. Humanity and nature both were better. Humanity was not as critical of himself or others. He was not as destructive of nature and he was beginning to understand what love is. Then we stood at a place in time where we were more like the beings of the fourth and fifth realm. The Lord sent the mental message to me, «It is left to humanity which direction they shall choose. I came to this planet to show you through the life I led how to love. Without our Father you can do nothing, neither could I. I showed you this. You have 45 years». He then gave me orders to return to the human plane and mentally said, «You have 45 years». I had no understanding at that moment what he meant by 45 years. My throat was on fire and the weight on my chest was crushing me.         


Here George Ritchie's NDE ends. Ritchie's book Return from Tomorrow, which describes his NDE, was published in 1985, approximately 42 years after his experience. The following text contains Dr. Ritchie's interpretation on some aspects of his experience: even if centered on the psychological figure of the Christ, his considerations dissociate from the more conventional Christian doctrine. In evaluating the mystical aspect of the NDEs, it is necessary not to be misled by the humanly historical and psychological aspect of names: Ritchie calls Christ the personality at his side because he associates it with his psychological image of the figure of the Christ, but certainly it deals with a personalized energy associated above all with an emanation of superhuman love and happiness which, within Ritchie's NDE, has its own autonomous existence independent of the historical human figure of Jesus. This ambiguity is a legacy of the Christian religion, which continues to want to make dogmatically coincide the figure of a man, really lived in the past and called Jesus, with the historical evolution of the human experience centered on the psychical (and mythical) symbol of the Christ. From a psychological point of view, Ritchie's experience – which begins as a typical OBE and becomes more and more complex after his encounter with the luminous being – is much more articulate, profound and interesting than other NDEs reflecting psychic tunings of mainly religious imprint.          

Some Ritchie's reflections on Christianity

Man, with the help of the dogmas of Western Christianity, has lost his way, and sees himself totally separated from God because Western Christianity through the Roman Catholic Church stressed fallen man, with Jesus dying for our sins on the cross. The churches have not explained our potential as gods, with our God-given creative power, and how necessary it is for us to be under the guidance of the Holy Spirit of God when we use this power. Quoting Psalms 82:6, Jesus asked, «Is it not written in your law, I said, you are gods?». St. Irenaeus, a famous early Christian leader stated that God became a human being in order that human beings might become God. I would change what he said only to the degree that I would say that Jesus showed us the God that God, our Father created us to be. Instead the churches lead us to believe that the church was given the authority to decide who was going to heaven, and that those who didn't join their particular denomination were going to hell. This is incongruous with the teachings of Jesus, the Christ, who told us the tale of the prodigal son not only to help us understand the love and forgiveness of God but to help us understand that the prodigal son is the cosmic tale of each and every human being. We have all forgotten that we are sons and daughters of the most high God; that our spiritual side, the soul of man, needs to return to have total fellowship with the Father. To do this we have to come to ourselves and realize that in this human plane of existence, our human, selfish side has led us down the road of materialism and of living only for ourselves, which caused us to turn away from our Father and our divine destiny and forget who we are. It caused our spiritual death.       

Jesus went on the cross to show us that we must die to this human egotistical side in order to let the soul of man, which has carried the knowledge of who it is and from whence it came, come to life and into control. This is our ultimate destiny, to reach out and begin to communicate with the Christ, so that he can lead us back to being alive (i.e., into that perfect union with our Father) and let him pass his love and thinking through us to one another. We must come to know the living resurrected Christ within us, and depend on passing his love to one another and to God, because our human love isn't enough. When we recognize this truth, then, like the prodigal son Jesus told about, we will have come to ourselves; that is, we will come alive, and will decide to go home, for we will know that even being a servant in our Father's household is better than being dead spiritually, the way we have been living.          


Pam Reynolds
Anonymous French
Howard Storm
George Ritchie
Jayne Smith
Yuri Rodonaia
Ned Dougherty
Reinee Pasarow
Arthur Yensen
Lynnclaire Dennis
Thomas Benedict
Stefan Jankovich
Christian Andréason
Josiane Antonette
Juliet Nightingale
Jeanie Dicus
Linda Stewart
Laurelynn Martin
Olaf Sunden
Distressing NDEs
Medical evidence
A  metamorphosis
Final considerations