A Journey Beyond: The Incredible Story of Lee Mazal Edmon

I'm writing this story with great excitement, hoping that as I write, I'll once again glimpse those miraculous, breathtaking, and moving sights.

I'm sharing with you an amazing experience that is truly indescribable because it comes from another world, one without words... It's a world where everything is different, the colors are different, the sensations are different, and it's nothing like what we know here.

I've always loved to write and thought words were a wonderful and precise world; after this experience, I realized words define, limit, and constrain.

But still, here in our world, words are used for communication, and we have no other means of communication yet, so I'll use words to tell the story.

I'll give a little background because it's important to understand the mental state I reached before this experience. This point is important. Now I know in the depths of my soul that this experience was given to me out of immense divine compassion, and for that I am endlessly grateful.

My husband and I waited four years for a child. After challenging fertility treatments, with Hashem's will, I became pregnant. This pregnancy was special from the beginning; it was with twins, but one of them was discovered early on to have a severe condition that wouldn't allow survival after birth.

Throughout the pregnancy, I was determined not to give up on either of them and allowed both to grow inside me until the end. Beyond that, we barely told our families what was happening because we wanted to believe that until the last moment, a miracle could happen, and we could come home with two healthy, living babies.

This was a challenging pregnancy, monitored by the high-risk pregnancy department at Wolfson Hospital. During one of the examinations, the doctor decided not to wait, and that day I was to give birth. The immense stress of wondering what would be—would I return with two, one, or none? No words could describe my anxiety about handling this situation immediately after birth, with one of the babies possibly not surviving. It overwhelmed me.

After many hours trying to progress with a natural birth, I underwent a Caesarean section. It was decided I would enter the operating room alone, entirely by myself with a curious medical team. I was terrified. Having not cried in years, suddenly I was overcome with deep cries.

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In the operating room, I requested full anesthesia rather than partial. They agreed. As soon as the anesthesia took effect, I immediately found myself outside of my body, completely released from it, moving upward. For the first time, I felt no limits. Unlike those who say they saw their body or remained in the room watching the people there, I found myself far away, gently but clearly being drawn upward. I knew I was in a completely different world, far above this one, and it was a relief! I felt relieved to leave myself behind, content not to be "Lee Mazal." I was so happy to simply be, to have returned to my true essence. There were no boundaries or definitions, no name, just being, and I was complete. I felt joyous and light, healthier than ever. Recalling my earthly life brought on distaste. I was aware of being far down below and glad I was no longer there, disidentifying with who I had been.

To describe the difference in feelings, imagine our soul as an actor. Beyond acting, this person has myriad talents, ideas, insights, and a lifetime of history.

In this world, they've taken on a role in a theater play as an old, lonely character. As an actor, they fully embrace the part, feeling and hurting like that character, embodying the elderly persona. Yet, the actor remains much more than the character they portray. They are a vast world now limited to the performance. Are they entirely the character? No. The actor stays aware of their other talents, qualities, knowledge, thoughts, and feelings outside the role they play. The old man comes from within them but doesn't encompass their totality.

I no longer wanted to play the part of "Lee Mazal." There, I knew "Lee Mazal" wasn't me; my real self was the presence I felt at that moment, having finally come home after approximately 31 years. It was so good to be home. I had no intention of returning! Outside the body, there's no desire to return to it; it restricts, lowers, diminishes, and defines—not just physically but in essence. It ties the soul down with whims, offenses, anger, and sadness... In the world of pure truth, one understands this is temporary, the earthly realm we know is a fleeting illusion, a theatrical play I had no intention of returning to. I was repelled by it.

The ascent continued gently but firmly, as if drawn to something like a magnet, like a moth to a flame. Although I couldn't see, I sensed other souls around me, felt voices. I knew I wasn't alone but saw no one.

Then I encountered the most incredible sight—a scene for which no words could truly capture the beauty, holiness, vitality, and strength. Still, I will try.

I saw a sea. It was vast, boundless, and without limits. I looked for a shoreline or an end but found none. As I gazed to the right, my soul drifted swiftly upon it, unending, immeasurable... It amazed me. The sea was a color I'd never seen here, a kind of white but of a different white, luminous, pure, sacred. This color was alive, moving, deep. The closest description would be mother-of-pearl. The color itself had vitality and inner layers, and the sea felt like a beating heart... Its life force was palpable. I knew it was alive, something always occurring within it in tranquility and peace; every gentle movement in one spot influenced the entire sea. A small ripple began and continued softly, endlessly. Quiet. I'd never imagined such silence, such serenity, such tenderness. The presence of it astounded me.

Light illuminated the sea, not from the sun but seemingly bestowed from above in completeness... An incredible light, a light of love, illuminating the entire sea perfectly. Each part received the same light, clearly loving and giving equally to every section. This light caused color changes, creating rainbow-like hues, the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. The colors moved gracefully across the sea, resembling an exquisite ornament. I remember thinking, "In the world I come from, there are no colors like these." I was willing to gaze upon it for eternity.

This sea was alive; I remember trembling without a body at the immense holiness, a powerful and thrilling quiver. If I know what awe is, it's from those moments. I trembled entirely without a body at the overwhelming sanctity felt there. I realized I had witnessed holiness and love.

This world had clean, complete silence beyond words. I heard only my thoughts but felt within the conversation I am about to describe.

I was addressed; the conversation took place without words or telepathy but was sensed as passing information through emotion to the soul. There was silent communication, and I felt addressed and surprised to have arrived. Many souls spoke in a collective voice only felt, not heard. I saw no one but sensed them. Gradually, I realized I was nearing a position above the sea and saw that the sea was actually composed of countless identical diamonds. Together they formed the entire sea flawlessly, without end or boundary, perfectly aligned with no spaces—all equal and receiving light equally. It was a breathtaking unity. Everything was arranged beautifully. Suddenly, I understood that the shapes I saw were all souls, and they were speaking to me, explaining that I had to return, even though I didn't want to... As the conversation continued, I neared my diamond among the countless others. They explained softly, with understanding, that I had a commitment and role and needed to return to my former self. The scene of only one surviving infant needing his mother, and my husband needing his wife, was gently explained to me, all with compassion, all encompassing and understanding. Despite this, there was divine will, and I quickly understood my place in this vast sea. The diamond revealed itself as two triangles forming it, and I saw my triangle. As I drew closer, I neared returning to this world. I wasn't forced; they explained with immense love. I didn't want to, but I agreed. As I passed through it, I descended through an invisible tunnel at an incomprehensible speed, like an elevator dropping 40 floors instantly. This descent had several pulses, like brief stops. I think three or four. I can still feel how hard and traumatic that descent was. An intolerable, terrible landing. The gap between worlds was immense. The descent required between them highlighted the differences.

I awoke immediately in the delivery room, with the anesthesiologist above, looking at me, saying, "She's with us." I realized then that even in the delivery room, they sensed something happening. The surgeon stated, "And this is the first baby." A woman's voice asked, "What is this???" to which he replied knowledgeably, "It's anencephaly." I pleaded, "Sedate me, I feel everything here..." All I desired was to return home to where I had just come from. A consultation occurred between the anesthesiologist and surgeon, and only then did I truly sleep. It can be said I slept for six and a half years, during which, though I shared a little, I repressed this miracle. Those with whom I shared often couldn't comprehend; one who hasn't experienced it can't understand the difficulty of returning here.

Moreover, I had a soul-bound commitment to my child, Daniel. When I first saw him, I immediately recognized him. He was the most incredible baby I had ever seen... From an egocentric being, I became one who gives love, attention, care, warmth, and nurturing. I had purpose. I contributed to creation for another soul, helpless, filling me with love.

I recall not leaving the house for two weeks or more. The outside world held no appeal; if anything, it deterred me. Meeting people contrasted the gentle spirit I'd known there. When my husband suggested we three go shopping at Super-Pharm, everything was bizarre to me, loud, hard. Upon entering the store, the lights were glaring, the fragrances overwhelming, the density of everything crude, the people harsh. I felt disconnected in the world. Nothing like the unity and delicate beauty I'd known. This world was very difficult for me.

This feeling somewhat frightened me, and I quickly gathered myself because I understood I was a mother with responsibilities in this world. It took about a month and a half to reorient and function again here.

It's worth pausing on a few things. This experience came to me in a moment of feeling utterly alone, abandoned, helpless. In immense compassion, my soul could remember whence she came, the unity we all belong to. A place of love, where we're all connected, speaking in one voice. All of us are there.

There's someone with us at every moment, focused upon us endlessly, present in our lives, feeling us with love. When I needed it most, the Creator let me see, without revealing Himself, with immense humility. He reassured me by taking me to a place where I was part of a whole, not alone, where I was a part of a magnificent, perfect tapestry, where there's no "I," only "us." There, all nullified before the Creator.

Another point worth noting is the divine light illuminating all. I sensed it then, but only years later can I define it in words.

I trembled from holiness, power, an absence of words. Here, we can utter the Creator's name and live; there, it's clearly impossible; all is revealed, even His might and significance. Who would dare to utter His name? I wouldn't have dared there, though here I whisper it without due reverence. That alone demonstrates the mercy existing in our world.

Concerning mercy, only after three births did I understand we're living now in a womb. A real womb. The world outside our womb is the true world, the world beyond. Beyond the body. There's an umbilical-like connection between our soul and the embryo we know here as "I." In this womb, we're allowed to be, grow, develop, mistake. Like embryos, we feel we're the center here, believing no one is outside... engrossed in ourselves... Enveloped in intensified compassion, we're permitted to repeatedly invoke the Creator's name and survive.

If writing this story causes even one person to grasp that we were created with compassion, love, understanding, patience, and that all souls of Israel are a single tapestry, it was worthwhile for me.

For His name, in love.

Lee Mazal Edmon