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When a Brain Scientist Suffers a Stroke

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Darwin:
[hi-jack]
My doggie can be seen in this thread. He's a distant relation of Tinjaw's. ;D
[/hi-jack]
-nosh (March 24, 2008, 06:51 PM)
--- End quote ---

Heh, heh - I thought you were implying that Tinjaw is distantly related to your dog  :o

nosh:
It was meant to be a double entendre. :P Doggies are like children anyway.
[/no more hi-jacking, I promise]

Deozaan:
That was a really good presentation.

The interesting thing about it, and which she should know well from her experience with her brother, is that it isn't normal to experience that kind of thing with a healthy, functioning brain. The euphoria and feeling of being one with the universe is probably very unlikely to happen to someone who is healthy. The only time we hear stories like this is when people are very sick or have a near-death experience, or drug induced hallucinations; it's very obvious that they're unhealthy and not in their "right mind" when these things happen.

I don't mean to sound a cynic. I have been called idealistic, and I do dream of a better, more peaceful world.

It makes me wonder, though, has anybody here experienced something similar? Some euphoric, or peaceful feeling of being separated from yourself as an individual and whole with all around you? (I'm not asking for details of drug trips.)

I have.

tomos:
It makes me wonder, though, has anybody here experienced something similar? Some euphoric, or peaceful feeling of being separated from yourself as an individual and whole with all around you? (I'm not asking for details of drug trips.)

I have.
-Deozaan (March 27, 2008, 11:38 AM)
--- End quote ---

mmm, me too (for brief moments)
if "separated from yourself as an individual" means seperate from the head chatter
and "whole with all around you" means being very aware of everything and feeling like part of it
combined with a feeling of joy (which I reckon at least partly comes from the sense of relief of seperating from all that ... stuff ... that goes on - in my head at least)

I'm not too impressed with "normality" as I know it :) and
I think/hope/believe there is (can be) a balance there - between left and right

Deozaan:
mmm, me too (for brief moments)
if "separated from yourself as an individual" means seperate from the head chatter
and "whole with all around you" means being very aware of everything and feeling like part of it
combined with a feeling of joy (which I reckon at least partly comes from the sense of relief of seperating from all that ... stuff ... that goes on - in my head at least)

I'm not too impressed with "normality" as I know it :) and
I think/hope/believe there is (can be) a balance there - between left and right
-tomos (March 27, 2008, 02:17 PM)
--- End quote ---

I had a kind of strange, hard to describe, almost out-of-body or near-death like experience in August 2004. I didn't really feel joy, but I felt peaceful. Actually looking back on it now (and reading what I wrote about it afterward) there are a lot of similarities between what happened to me and what happened to Dr. Taylor. Not in the cause of the experience, but in how the experience played out. Periods of time where I felt separated from my body and one with all around me interrupted sporadically with a voice in my head reminding me that it was me inside that body.

Heck, I'll just paste what I wrote about it here:

Life and DeathI often wondered if I had died that night. The experience was so unreal that I was not sure. But then again, if I had died, why hadn't I had some sort of grand experience of the heavens opening up or some such thing? Why hadn't I found a new appreciation for life and the grand scheme of things? I had seen no angels. I had seen nothing. It was like a night without stars.

That whole day I had been miserable. I was certainly not at my peak health. Usually I just ride out my illnesses, but finally by that night I had had enough and decided to take a trip to the store to get medicine. When I returned I went through my preparations for sleep, including using the bathroom. I lay in bed and waited for sleep to overtake me. Now, sleep rarely comes quickly to me, and that night was no exception. As time passed by I began to feel sleepy, but before I fell asleep a new sensation came over me. I have tried many times to describe this sensation to myself. I tried even while I was experiencing it and could not quite put my finger on it. It was something inside. It was something deeply wrong. It felt as though my blood was rushing through my veins while at the same time my heart kept its regular, slow pace. My chest felt constricted, yet at the same time it felt fine. Whatever was wrong with me, it did not hurt. I was not in pain. Yet the intensity of it grew and grew until I tensed up all my muscles. I released after a few seconds. It was almost like a seizure, except that it was voluntary. I was in control of my muscles. I tensed up on purpose. This seemed to help, at least temporarily. Again and again the intensity increased and I tensed my muscles. Would I ever be able to fall asleep with this going on?

This repeated and repeated and repeated. I cannot say for sure how long this went on before I lost consciousness. I also cannot say for sure whether or not I had fallen asleep, blacked out, or died. Or was there any difference between the three? I just remember everything being still. It was as if the world had been paused. It was as if my mind had been paused. I was still aware, but there were no thoughts. Suddenly a single thought broke through the stillness: Breathe.

I began to breathe again. My eyes cracked open and I was suddenly reminded of my existence. "Oh yeah," I remembered, "I am me. This is where I am." It was as if while my mind was on hold. I had forgotten myself. This is hard to describe. It was as if "I" had no meaning to me. Before I started breathing again I had not been aware of myself. I had simply been an observer, yet I was not a single entity at all.

I stopped breathing again. My mind paused. I was in the third person, just watching the stillness of the dark room. Aware of the figure laying on the bed in below me, yet unconcerned or unaware that it was myself. I was looking past myself, or was I looking at all? I simply knew that there was a small, dark room. A figure laying very still on the bed. A computer on the desk in the closet. I did not need to look around. Everything was before me. I knew every inch of that room without having to move any eyes around. It was as if I was everything in the room at once. I was one with the room and all its contents.

Out of nowhere the thought came again: Breathe. I felt my chest move up and down. I was once again the person laying on the bed. My eyes opened slowly. I remembered again that I was a person, that I was myself. I became aware of my surroundings from my body's point of view. From my eyes. I was in my head again. I was in my body again. My lips were dry and my face was burning. I licked my dry lips. I breathed. I was cold, but not aware enough to do anything about it. My body urged me to use the bathroom. I did. And doing so I wondered where all the fluid was coming from. I didn't drink this much water. Where was it coming from? I knew then that I must have been becoming dehydrated, but at the time I did nothing about it. I simply flushed the toilet and went back to bed.

I stopped breathing and became an all-aware entity at least three or four more times. How long this took me, I cannot say. How long had I gone without air? How long did I regain consciousness and continue breathing? It seemed as though I had always been the third-person observer. As if being in this body was a brand new experience, and I had only had a short time with this body. As if being mortal was a new experience to me. I felt that I had existed for eternities before I was thrust into this carbon shell of flesh, and that after I left this body, I would exist for eternities thereafter.

Eventually I woke up the next day and stayed awake. I was confused and shaken. What had happened that night? I was not sure. I still am not sure. That whole next day I felt different. I felt detached. I felt that slight wrongness that you feel when you've spun around and made yourself dizzy. Something was different. Nothing mattered. I was at peace. I had no desire to do good nor evil. I simply was--I existed--and that was enough for me.

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