Near-Death Experiencers

A gathering of those who have been to the “other side”

Nothing to Teach
   Searching for new waters to fish, the young lad climbed down the bank to the stream. Across the way he could see an old man wading close to the bank and fishing a deep hole under a large old Oak tree. As he watched, the old man pulled a large fish from the stream and placed it in his creel. Excited, the young man began to flail away at the water but try as he may no fish would rise to his fly. As he cast he could see the old man every once and awhile placing a fine trout into his creel. As the day drew to a close he climbed up the bank and walked across the bridge to talk to the old man. He found him sitting on a stump near the road. He asked the old man to teach him the secret to his success. The old man said he had no secrets, he just fished the fly he felt was right and cast where he suspected fish lay. He said he had nothing to teach the young man but he was welcome to watch him. A car soon stopped and the old man got in and it drove off. The next weekend the young man returned and once again he saw the old man in the same spot in the stream. This time he went to that side of the river and watched from the bank. He could see nothing different yet the old man would catch a fish now and again. Sliding into the stream the young man asked his elder to teach him what he was doing. The old man said he had nothing to teach, just do as he did. Standing right next to the old man he selected the same fly, cast to the same places in the pool, worked his fly the same way yet caught nothing. As afternoon drew near they left the stream. Soon the familiar car stopped and the old man got in. The young man inquired of the driver if he enjoyed fresh trout dinners all week. The driver, a young man of about the same age replied that they never ate the fish, they stopped at the orphanage on the way home each day. He brought his father down to the stream each morning and picked him up each afternoon and always they made the same stop on the way home. Every weekend for months the young man came back to the stream. He finally began to catch a fish now and again but never as many as the old man though he fished the same spot with the same fly and cast the same way. One day the old man did not come down to the stream. The young man went to stand in exactly the same spot and cast the same way with the same fly and he began to catch fish. After a few weeks the young man was fishing this favorite spot when he noticed another even younger man come down the bank to watch him fish. The youngster watched him until the shadows grew long and it was time to quit for the day. As they left the stream the two young men walked together and stopped by the stump next to the road. Just then a car passed. The new arrival asked the young man to teach him how to catch so many fish. The young man replied he had nothing to teach, it was just luck. He then related the story of the old man and how his son would bring him and pick him up each day. He told how one day the son came by to pick up his father and found him sitting on the stump dead; his heart had failed. The young man went on to say how the old man never taught him anything. Marveling at the creel full of fresh large trout the youngster remarked they would make a fine meal. The young man said he now caught so many trout he didn’t

bother preparing them for a meal, he just dropped them off at the orphanage on his way home.

Life
When the world grows tiresome for me
I go and sit down where the stream runs
And the beauty of the perfect cathedral
With arching roof of blue letting in the light
And the chorus of dragonfly’s wings
Sings praises to the cycle of life
Opening my eyes and ears to the
Beauty and wonder of existence
The trout’s rise-ring rippling
Expanding concentric circles
The tiny waves kissing the mossy stones
With a soothing coolness that quenches
The thirst of the deer who shyly drinks there
And all are refreshed

Because
not because of pain today
not because life didn’t go my way
not because the mood was sad
not because the dog was bad
not because the bills are high
not because a friend made me cry
not because the flower died
not because one trusted lied
not because the rain has come
not because the fun is done
but because
in the next instant
something wonderful might happen!!

After Dawn
Sun rising over bright heather
The mist spiraling off the loch
A red-haired maiden walks hither
Her smiling red lips remember
The night as she danced in the glen
And from the wood she is watched
She thinks of her lover and then
Her mind swirls ‘round the fire
As he swept her lightly away from friends
And asked her to join him forever
The eyes follow her there just then
While planning her upcoming wedding
She walks the cool forest to the end
Of the path where she stops to pick berries
And she’s watched still
She sings on her way to her cottage
A light-hearted tune to be sure
And she stops once again to pay homage
To the hills as she plays her tambour
The watcher lowers his head slightly
The red deer stag entranced by this creature
So beautiful he stopped to watch
She walks on
Singing
                                                              Wayne Hart

Words and Poems: