Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife

Paperback | October 23, 2012

byEben Alexander

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The #1 New York Times bestselling account of a neurosurgeon's own near-death experience.
Thousands of people have had near-death experiences, but scientists have argued that they are impossible. Dr. Eben Alexander was one of those scientists. A highly trained neurosurgeon, Alexander knew that NDEs feel real, but are simply fantasies produced by brains under extreme stress.

Then, Dr. Alexander’s own brain was attacked by a rare illness. The part of the brain that controls thought and emotion—and in essence makes us human—shut down completely. For seven days he lay in a coma. Then, as his doctors considered stopping treatment, Alexander’s eyes popped open. He had come back.

Alexander’s recovery is a medical miracle. But the real miracle of his story lies elsewhere. While his body lay in coma, Alexander journeyed beyond this world and encountered an angelic being who guided him into the deepest realms of super-physical existence. There he met, and spoke with, the Divine source of the universe itself.

Alexander’s story is not a fantasy. Before he underwent his journey, he could not reconcile his knowledge of neuroscience with any belief in heaven, God, or the soul. Today Alexander is a doctor who believes that true health can be achieved only when we realize that God and the soul are real and that death is not the end of personal existence but only a transition.

This story would be remarkable no matter who it happened to. That it happened to Dr. Alexander makes it revolutionary. No scientist or person of faith will be able to ignore it. Reading it will change your life.

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From the Publisher

The #1 New York Times bestselling account of a neurosurgeon's own near-death experience. Thousands of people have had near-death experiences, but scientists have argued that they are impossible. Dr. Eben Alexander was one of those scientists. A highly trained neurosurgeon, Alexander knew that NDEs feel real, but are simply fantasies p...

Format:PaperbackDimensions:208 pages, 8.38 × 5.5 × 0.6 inPublished:October 23, 2012Publisher:Simon & SchusterLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:1451695195

ISBN - 13:9781451695199

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Reviews

Rated 4 out of 5 by from A light in dark I believe in heaven but this proof coming from a very prestigious neurologist make you think about a lot of thing. no more fear of dead.. great history!!!
Date published: 2016-01-18
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Eye Opening! This account is written factually without a lot of sentiment, yet you are a believer because it could never have been imagined. It filled me with hope and joy! It takes away the fear of death.
Date published: 2015-05-26
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Amazing Brought faith and easy in healing after my fathers death. As a scientific mind the "proof" from a scientist allowed for credibility and true belief.
Date published: 2014-12-28
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of heaven Easy to read story, very interesting regardless of your beliefs or religion. Makes you take a breath and realize how brief our lives are compared with what could be your next life.
Date published: 2014-08-03
Rated 5 out of 5 by from A Fantastic Read! I've always known it.
Date published: 2014-07-17
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven Very good Read
Date published: 2014-05-11
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Just what i needed Just interesting and comforting. As a true religion....i assume......should be.
Date published: 2014-05-05
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Extremely good read! Dr. Eben struggles at times to convey his experience and it shows. But who has ever tried to convey something so spiritual and ended up getting their message across visually satisfying? Either way this book and experience couldn't have come from anyone else in my opinion. As a medically minded person myself, he truly has the data and background to support his experience which a lot of NDE's leave me desiring. Thank you for this look and journey.
Date published: 2014-04-30
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Doubting Thomases This book is intriguing because of the author's unique experience, but also because his impeccable credentials and research demonstrate his credibility?
Date published: 2014-04-12
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven I'm grateful that Eben Alexander wrote this book. Next to The Tibethan Book of Dying it gives such precious amount of information about the proces of death. Very interesting and useful in the same time.
Date published: 2014-04-03
Rated 5 out of 5 by from I LOVED the book. I have read in various sources (East / West / old) similar views of the relationship between the matter and Conscience, but this is the first book which very effectively bridges all this to my hard-science knowledge of the universe. Not only excellent as an account / report / evidence done by a trusted source from the field of science, but also an excellent piece of writing. At times I had troubles the book has been written by an MD and not an experience writer. Keeps you interested at all levels, both rational and emotional. Definitely worth reading.
Date published: 2014-03-17
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven This is an interesting, very personal book. The conviction with which Dr. Alexander writes is admirable, the title of the book is unfortunate in that it doesn't really offer "proof" of heaven. It's a terrific read that should have spent more time on the alternate theories for Dr. Alexander's experience. Speaking from the scientific point of view, the proof would be more convincing if the support were more objective. After reading this book, I went onto "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins, another New York Times bestseller and a counterpoint-counterpart to "Proof of Heaven".
Date published: 2014-01-26
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven If you were not a believer, you will BELIEVE!!!!
Date published: 2014-01-26
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven Good book. Well written and thought provoking. Loved that it is written by a physician. Just confirms my own beliefs.
Date published: 2014-01-26
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven Having read a multitude of books on this subject, starting with Raymond Moodys' Life after Life, I was thrilled to see documentation from a neurosurgeons perspective, both professional and personal. I was not disappointed. Dr Alexander answers many of the questions I have had about the physical aspects of the brain and dying. While I have never needed verification, having experienced my own NDE, it is always rewarding to have positive input from the scientific community.
Date published: 2014-01-25
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven This was a very interesting and well written account. I could not put the book down. As i was reading it I thought, more people should read this book. It could help so many and change so much in our world.
Date published: 2014-01-25
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven Earrily well written and difficult to put down. This book kept me on edge and engrossed with every page.
Date published: 2014-01-25
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven Sounds fasinating. Will read the whole book at 50 percent off. Thanks for the oppertunity to check it out first.
Date published: 2014-01-25
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven As a Christian and a registered nurse, I was keen to read this book. However, the medical aspect of the book was very technical. It was more then I was able to fully understand. The book itself was well written and the story line was interesting but all in all, I was disappointed with the book
Date published: 2014-01-24
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven It was a very interesting book, especially from a medical professional that is very scientific about everything. It was slow in some spots, but a very good read overall. I am glad I took the time to buy it.
Date published: 2014-01-24
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven A fascinating journey for physicians and non-physicians alike: this account of a man's illness and experience during coma would fascinate non-physicians and non-scientists in and of itself; but the fact that the man is a physician and one who prior to his coma would have rejected all possibility of religious experience as being as real as any conscious experience of reality makes the book potentially fascinating to doctors and those who are skilled in the scientific method of inquiry. One noteworthy and highly respected neurologist has taken aim at his thesis, but he was unable to convincingly demolish it. Until I read this book, due to my medical training, I had wanted to believe in God but I could not develop it. Reading Eben Alexander, MD's experience of God helped me connect with God in an intensely condensed and powerful way.
Date published: 2014-01-24
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven Proof of Heaven by Dr. Alexander was a deep and thorough journey about his experience with the next life. I believe in an afterlife, but what I appreciated most about reading this book was how non preachy and concisely written it was. He gives the reader the heart and soul of the gift he has been given in a very serious illness. He also writes a nice flowing account that keeps the reader interested. Reading it reminds me a bit of the book written by a Neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor called My stroke of Insight. Her book is another account of the human spirit and the importance of this life we are given. Dr. Alexander tells us the same story of hope and love, not to be afraid of what is to come, but to be grateful and thoughtful of every moment we are given. The miracle of life and hope is the message I take away from this book. It helps to read and educate myself to think about others and be good to them and myself. Thank you for writing this book and not dumbing it down and explaining it scientific terms.
Date published: 2014-01-24
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven This book really made me think about afterlife and if it did really exist. The book made me really think about the power of faith. Great book. A must read.
Date published: 2014-01-24
Rated 4 out of 5 by from An interesting and unique NDE shared Let me start by saying that my blog post on June 13/2013 is related to Dr. Alexander's recent talk in Vancouver, BC, and adds a little more depth to his experience. As for the book itself, it has been quite some time since I started and finished a book on the same day. I quite enjoyed Eben's writing style in that he explained his situation in a way that people who are not scientists or in the medical profession can relate to. I think one of the greatest challenges for any person who has undergone such a deep personal experience, in this case an NDE, is the difficulty in finding words that can describe the experience. I think another challenge that people who experience NDE’s have to deal with is the skepticism of people when they return. The fact that Eben is a neurosurgeon who did not believe in the possibility of these events, prior to his own experience, goes a long way in adding to the validity of his subsequent revelations. If you are looking for irrefutable proof that there is life after death, you might not find it here; however, that being said, I don’t think any one book can do that. Eben’s experience is one more unique and profound event that contributes a great deal to the study of NDE’s. Furthermore, the massive resource list at the end of the book provides you with numerous other books and references to help you unravel the mysteries of life after death.
Date published: 2013-10-06
Rated 1 out of 5 by from No "Proof" Here SImply put - if a person puts forth a well-written manuscript on their experience as an alien abductee, does that prove that aliens are abducting people [i.e. Whitley Streiber's "Communion"]? Or does it simply mean that people can easily be misled into seeing what they are conditioned to expect? The scientific expertise of someone is no proof of infalibility, and while I am sure this is a genuine tale of the author's memories, it is no more "proof" than any other incredible tale told by any other person.
Date published: 2013-02-15
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Science & Religion Do Go Hand in Hand Reason for Reading: My friends had been talking about the book about the little boy who went to Heaven and everyone was mentioning that there was a new one out about a doctor who had had the same experience. That was the one I was interested in reading, so I was thrilled when I received a copy to review out of the blue! I'll refer to the author as Eben as that is what he is most referred to by others in the book. I thoroughly enjoyed this book; it is the first modern-day account of Heaven that I have read. I found it fascinating. Of course, his descriptions of what Heaven is like makes profound reading for a believer, but it is also the complete tale of his story that is awe-inducing. Eben writes the details of his medical condition that caused him to be virtually brain-dead and in a coma for seven days in a voice that makes all the medical intricacies understandable to the lay person. This is very important for the reader to realize just how unrealistic his recovery was in this situation. The fact that Eben is a neurosurgeon also means that the book is filled with exceptional details, again written as to be understandable to the lay person, on how the brain works and just what scientists and the mainstream medical community believe about the brain and the scientific incompatibility of believing in a soul when one puts their faith in scientific knowledge. It is amazing how non-believer scientist Eben, flooded with the realities of God is able to come to terms with faith and science and explain how they go hand in hand. A must read as the publishers promote for both scientists and believers. The only problem I had with the book was one particular chapter where the author strays from presenting the facts and theorizes about religion and I found his theology way off but he is entitled to his musings and conclusions, no points off my review for that! Very interesting and uplifting, especially in the fact that it presents how science and religion *do* work side by side when your faith is in the Creator.
Date published: 2013-01-07
Rated out of 5 by from Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife by Eben, M.D. Alexander has to be considered the definitive travelbook to the afterlife. This is the book everyone should read before taking the journey themselves.
Date published: 2012-12-03

Extra Content

Read from the Book

PROLOGUE A man should look for what is, and not for what he thinks should be. —ALBERT EINSTEIN (1879–1955) When I was a kid, I would often dream of flying. Most of the time I’d be standing out in my yard at night, looking up at the stars, when out of the blue I’d start floating upward. The first few inches happened automatically. But soon I’d notice that the higher I got, the more my progress depended on me—on what I did. If I got too excited, too swept away by the experience, I would plummet back to the ground . . . hard. But if I played it cool, took it all in stride, then off I would go, faster and faster, up into the starry sky. Maybe those dreams were part of the reason why, as I got older, I fell in love with airplanes and rockets—with anything that might get me back up there in the world above this one. When our family flew, my face was pressed flat to the plane’s window from takeoff to landing. In the summer of 1968, when I was fourteen, I spent all the money I’d earned mowing lawns on a set of sailplane lessons with a guy named Gus Street at Strawberry Hill, a little grass strip “airport” just west of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, the town where I grew up. I still remember the feeling of my heart pounding as I pulled the big cherry-red knob that unhooked the rope connecting me to the towplane and banked my sailplane toward the field. It was the first time I had ever felt truly alone and free. Most of my friends got that feeling in cars, but for my money being a thousand feet up in a sailplane beat that thrill a hundred times over. In college in the 1970s I joined the University of North Carolina sport parachuting (or skydiving) team. It felt like a secret brotherhood—a group of people who knew about something special and magical. My first jump was terrifying, and the second even more so. But by my twelfth jump, when I stepped out the door and had to fall for more than a thousand feet before opening my parachute (my first “ten second delay”), I knew I was home. I made 365 parachute jumps in college and logged more than three and a half hours in free fall, mainly in formations with up to twenty-five fellow jumpers. Although I stopped jumping in 1976, I continued to enjoy vivid dreams about skydiving, which were always pleasant. The best jumps were often late in the afternoon, when the sun was starting to sink beneath the horizon. It’s hard to describe the feeling I would get on those jumps: a feeling of getting close to something that I could never quite name but that I knew I had to have more of. It wasn’t solitude exactly, because the way we dived actually wasn’t all that solitary. We’d jump five, six, sometimes ten or twelve people at a time, building free-fall formations. The bigger and the more challenging, the better. One beautiful autumn Saturday in 1975, the rest of the UNC jumpers and I teamed up with some of our friends at a paracenter in eastern North Carolina for some formations. On our penultimate jump of the day, out of a D18 Beechcraft at 10,500 feet, we made a ten-man snowflake. We managed to get ourselves into complete formation before we passed 7,000 feet, and thus were able to enjoy a full eighteen seconds of flying the formation down a clear chasm between two towering cumulus clouds before breaking apart at 3,500 feet and tracking away from each other to open our chutes. By the time we hit the ground, the sun was down. But by hustling into another plane and taking off again quickly, we managed to get back up into the last of the sun’s rays and do a second sunset jump. For this one, two junior members were getting their first shot at flying into formation—that is, joining it from the outside rather than being the base or pin man (which is easier because your job is essentially to fall straight down while everyone else maneuvers toward you). It was exciting for the two junior members, but also for those of us who were more seasoned, because we were building the team, adding to the experience of jumpers who’d later be capable of joining us for even bigger formations. I was to be the last man out in a six-man star attempt above the runways of the small airport just outside Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina. The guy directly in front of me was named Chuck. Chuck was fairly experienced at “relative work,” or RW—that is, building free-fall formations. We were still in sunshine at 7,500 feet, but a mile and a half below us the streetlights were blinking on. Twilight jumps were always sublime and this was clearly going to be a beautiful one. Even though I’d be exiting the plane a mere second or so behind Chuck, I’d have to move fast to catch up with everyone. I’d rocket straight down headfirst for the first seven seconds or so. This would make me drop almost 100 miles per hour faster than my friends so that I could be right there with them after they had built the initial formation. Normal procedure for RW jumps was for all jumpers to break apart at 3,500 feet and track away from the formation for maximum separation. Each would then “wave off” with his arms (signaling imminent deployment of his parachute), turn to look above to make sure no others were above him, then pull the rip cord. “Three, two, one . . . go!” The first four jumpers exited, then Chuck and I followed close behind. Upside down in a full-head dive and approaching terminal velocity, I smiled as I saw the sun setting for the second time that day. After streaking down to the others, my plan was to slam on the air brakes by throwing out my arms (we had fabric wings from wrists to hips that gave tremendous resistance when fully inflated at high speed) and aiming my jumpsuit’s bell-bottomed sleeves and pant legs straight into the oncoming air. But I never had the chance. Plummeting toward the formation, I saw that one of the new guys had come in too fast. Maybe falling rapidly between nearby clouds had him a little spooked—it reminded him that he was moving about two hundred feet per second toward that giant planet below, partially shrouded in the gathering darkness. Rather than slowly joining the edge of the formation, he’d barreled in and knocked everybody loose. Now all five other jumpers were tumbling out of control. They were also much too close together. A skydiver leaves a super-turbulent stream of low-pressure air behind him. If a jumper gets into that trail, he instantly speeds up and can crash into the person below him. That, in turn, can make both jumpers accelerate and slam into anyone who might be below them. In short, it’s a recipe for disaster. I angled my body and tracked away from the group to avoid the tumbling mess. I maneuvered until I was falling right over “the spot,” a magical point on the ground above which we were to open our parachutes for the leisurely two-minute descent. I looked over and was relieved to see that the disoriented jumpers were now also tracking away from each other, dispersing the deadly clump. Chuck was there among them. To my surprise, he was coming straight in my direction. He stopped directly beneath me. With all of the group’s tumbling, we were passing through 2,000 feet elevation more quickly than Chuck had anticipated. Maybe he thought he was lucky and didn’t have to follow the rules—exactly. He must not see me. The thought barely had time to go through my head before Chuck’s colorful pilot chute blossomed out of his backpack. His pilot chute caught the 120-mph breeze coming around him and shot straight toward me, pulling his main parachute in its sleeve right behind it. From the instant I saw Chuck’s pilot chute emerge, I had a fraction of a second to react. For it would take less than a second to tumble through his deploying main parachute, and—quite likely—right into Chuck himself. At that speed, if I hit his arm or his leg I would take it right off, dealing myself a fatal blow in the process. If I hit him directly, both our bodies would essentially explode. People say things move more slowly in situations like this, and they’re right. My mind watched the action in the microseconds that followed as if it were watching a movie in slow motion. The instant I saw the pilot chute, my arms flew to my sides and I straightened my body into a head dive, bending ever so slightly at the hips. The verticality gave me increased speed, and the bend allowed my body to add first a little, then a blast of horizontal motion as my body became an efficient wing, sending me zipping past Chuck just in front of his colorful blossoming Para-Commander parachute. I passed him going at over 150 miles per hour, or 220 feet per second. Given that speed, I doubt he saw the expression on my face. But if he had, he would have seen a look of sheer astonishment. Somehow I had reacted in microseconds to a situation that, had I actually had time to think about it, would have been much too complex for me to deal with. And yet . . . I had dealt with it, and we both landed safely. It was as if, presented with a situation that required more than its usual ability to respond, my brain had become, for a moment, superpowered. How had I done it? Over the course of my twenty-plus-year career in academic neurosurgery—of studying the brain, observing how it works, and operating on it—I have had plenty of opportunities to ponder this very question. I finally chalked it up to the fact that the brain is truly an extraordinary device: more extraordinary than we can even guess. I realize now that the real answer to that question is much more profound. But I had to go through a complete metamorphosis of my life and worldview to glimpse that answer. This book is about the events that changed my mind on the matter. They convinced me that, as marvelous a mechanism as the brain is, it was not my brain that saved my life that day at all. What sprang into action the second Chuck’s chute started to open was another, much deeper part of me. A part that could move so fast because it was not stuck in time at all, the way the brain and body are. This was the same part of me, in fact, that had made me so homesick for the skies as a kid. It’s not only the smartest part of us, but the deepest part as well, yet for most of my adult life I was unable to believe in it. But I do believe now, and the pages that follow will tell you why. I’m a neurosurgeon. I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 1976 with a major in chemistry and earned my M.D. at Duke University Medical School in 1980. During my eleven years of medical school and residency training at Duke as well as Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard, I focused on neuroendocrinology, the study of the interactions between the nervous system and the endocrine system—the series of glands that release the hormones that direct most of your body’s activities. I also spent two of those eleven years investigating how blood vessels in one area of the brain react pathologically when there is bleeding into it from an aneurysm—a syndrome known as cerebral vasospasm. After completing a fellowship in cerebrovascular neurosurgery in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne in the United Kingdom, I spent fifteen years on the faculty of Harvard Medical School as an associate professor of surgery, with a specialization in neurosurgery. During those years I operated on countless patients, many of them with severe, life-threatening brain conditions. Most of my research work involved the development of advanced technical procedures like stereotactic radiosurgery, a technique that allows surgeons to precisely guide beams of radiation to specific targets deep in the brain without affecting adjacent areas. I also helped develop magnetic resonance image–guided neurosurgical procedures instrumental in repairing hard-to-treat brain conditions like tumors and vascular disorders. During those years I also authored or coauthored more than 150 chapters and papers for peer-reviewed medical journals and presented my findings at more than two hundred medical conferences around the world. In short, I devoted myself to science. Using the tools of modern medicine to help and to heal people, and to learn more about the workings of the human body and brain, was my life’s calling. I felt immeasurably lucky to have found it. More important, I had a beautiful wife and two lovely children, and while I was in many ways married to my work, I did not neglect my family, which I considered the other great blessing in my life. On many counts I was a very lucky man, and I knew it. On November 10, 2008, however, at age fifty-four, my luck seemed to run out. I was struck by a rare illness and thrown into a coma for seven days. During that time, my entire neocortex—the outer surface of the brain, the part that makes us human—was shut down. Inoperative. In essence, absent. When your brain is absent, you are absent, too. As a neurosurgeon, I’d heard many stories over the years of people who had strange experiences, usually after suffering cardiac arrest: stories of traveling to mysterious, wonderful landscapes; of talking to dead relatives—even of meeting God Himself. Wonderful stuff, no question. But all of it, in my opinion, was pure fantasy. What caused the otherworldly types of experiences that such people so often report? I didn’t claim to know, but I did know that they were brain-based. All of consciousness is. If you don’t have a working brain, you can’t be conscious. This is because the brain is the machine that produces consciousness in the first place. When the machine breaks down, consciousness stops. As vastly complicated and mysterious as the actual mechanics of brain processes are, in essence the matter is as simple as that. Pull the plug and the TV goes dead. The show is over, no matter how much you might have been enjoying it. Or so I would have told you before my own brain crashed. During my coma my brain wasn’t working improperly—it wasn’t working at all. I now believe that this might have been what was responsible for the depth and intensity of the near-death experience (NDE) that I myself underwent during it. Many of the NDEs reported happen when a person’s heart has shut down for a while. In those cases, the neocortex is temporarily inactivated, but generally not too damaged, provided that the flow of oxygenated blood is restored through cardiopulmonary resuscitation or reactivation of cardiac function within four minutes or so. But in my case, the neocortex was out of the picture. I was encountering the reality of a world of consciousness that existed completely free of the limitations of my physical brain. Mine was in some ways a perfect storm of near-death experiences. As a practicing neurosurgeon with decades of research and hands-on work in the operating room behind me, I was in a better-than-average position to judge not only the reality but also the implications of what happened to me. Those implications are tremendous beyond description. My experience showed me that the death of the body and the brain are not the end of consciousness, that human experience continues beyond the grave. More important, it continues under the gaze of a God who loves and cares about each one of us and about where the universe itself and all the beings within it are ultimately going. The place I went was real. Real in a way that makes the life we’re living here and now completely dreamlike by comparison. This doesn’t mean I don’t value the life I’m living now, however. In fact, I value it more than I ever did before. I do so because I now see it in its true context. This life isn’t meaningless. But we can’t see that fact from here—at least most of the time. What happened to me while I was in that coma is hands-down the most important story I will ever tell. But it’s a tricky story to tell because it is so foreign to ordinary understanding. I can’t simply shout it from the rooftops. At the same time, my conclusions are based on a medical analysis of my experience, and on my familiarity with the most advanced concepts in brain science and consciousness studies. Once I realized the truth behind my journey, I knew I had to tell it. Doing so properly has become the chief task of my life. That’s not to say I’ve abandoned my medical work and my life as a neurosurgeon. But now that I have been privileged to understand that our life does not end with the death of the body or the brain, I see it as my duty, my calling, to tell people about what I saw beyond the body and beyond this earth. I am especially eager to tell my story to the people who might have heard stories similar to mine before and wanted to believe them, but had not been able to fully do so. It is to these people, more than any other, that I direct this book, and the message within it. What I have to tell you is as important as anything anyone will ever tell you, and it’s true.

Editorial Reviews

“Proof of Heaven is more than just an awe-inspiring account of a profound encounter with spiritual reality. Dr. Alexander’s neuroscience career taught him that near-death experiences are brain-based illusions, and yet his personal experience left him dumbstruck. His honest struggle to make sense of this unforgettable journey is a gripping story, unique in the literature of spiritual experiences, that may well change how we understand our role in the universe.” —Bruce Greyson, MD, co-editor of The Handbook of Near-Death Experiences: Thirty Years of Investigation