One of my very first out-of-body experiences came at a time when I thought I was ready for anything. I was curious, open, and deeply interested in what exists beyond this physical world. I had spent years working with energy, healing, prayer, and consciousness, and I truly believed I had loosened my grip on this world enough to move freely into the next. I was wrong—though not in the way I expected.
In that experience, I found myself fully present, aware, and calm, standing in what I can only describe as a place between. It wasn’t dark or light in the way we think of light. It simply was. I became aware of a being with me—someone who felt familiar, steady, and deeply kind. I understood without words that this being was meant to be my guide on the other side.
I was excited. Eager, even. I remember thinking, Oh good—now we’re going somewhere. I felt ready to go, ready to see what else existed beyond the veil.
But he looked at me with a kind of gentle patience and said,
“You’re not ready to go yet.”
That surprised me. I remember saying, “Why not?”
He didn’t argue with me. He didn’t scold me. He simply said,
“Look at yourself.”
And when I did, I finally saw what I had not been willing to see before.
All over my body—my energetic body—were things stuck to me as if by magnets. Objects. Possessions. Symbols of a life I thought I had already outgrown. They weren’t physical items exactly, but they were unmistakable. Jewelry. Household items. Tools. Comfort objects. Things I had valued, collected, depended on, or identified with.
They clung to me—not because anyone forced them to, but because I had not let them go.
The guide said, very calmly,
“You’ve got all of your prized possessions stuck to your body.”
There was no judgment in his voice. Just clarity.
Then he showed me something nearby: a conveyor belt. Simple. Functional. Neutral. It wasn’t dramatic or ceremonial. It just was there, waiting.
He said,
“If you want to go with me, take your stuff off and put it on the conveyor belt.”
That was it. No pressure. No demand. Just a choice.
I stood there for a moment, realizing that I had been telling myself a story about being unattached—while still gripping so many things for safety, identity, and reassurance. Even good things can weigh us down when we believe we are not whole without them.
I took a deep breath.
And one by one, I began to remove the things that were attached to me.
I didn’t throw them away in anger. I didn’t reject them. I simply acknowledged them and released them. Some came off easily. Others took more effort. A few surprised me—I hadn’t even realized how tightly I was holding on until I tried to let go.
As I placed each item onto the conveyor belt, I felt lighter. Clearer. More present.
There was no sense of loss—only relief.
When I was finished, I looked at myself again. I was still me. Whole. Aware. Complete. And now, unencumbered.
The guide nodded, and without fanfare, we moved on.
And just like that, off we went.
That experience stayed with me—not as a warning, but as a teaching.
It showed me that attachment is not about having things. It’s about being stuck to them. About believing they define us, protect us, or complete us. It taught me that spiritual readiness has very little to do with knowledge or intention—and everything to do with what we are willing to release.
Since that day, I’ve understood something very clearly:
Letting go is not about giving things up.
It’s about freeing ourselves to move.
And sometimes, life will quietly remove things for us—not to punish us, but to help us remember who we are without them.
When we are ready, truly ready, nothing needs to be ripped away. We simply place it on the conveyor belt… and continue the journey lighter than before.
That lesson has served me well—here, and beyond.
~ Taylore Vance