The book A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife— is where we find Dr. Eben Alexander offering his tale, his brush with the great beyond, which seems like something out of an epic fable. We’ve got all the ingredients. A near-death experience, the pull of the afterlife, a brain surgeon claiming firsthand knowledge of it, and then, as often happens with such grandiose stories: skepticism, legal squabbles, professional fallout, and a fair dose of controversy. The book’s appeal lies in its promise to pierce the veil, to lift the curtain on the theatre and give us a sneak peek at what’s playing in the afterlife. It claims to be rooted in science—Alexander is a neurosurgeon, after all—but this is where the plot thickens, isn’t it? The very essence of science is skepticism, inquiry, and cold, hard evidence. Yet here, we’re confronted with the most unscientific of phenomena: a personal, subjective experience of what might be called heaven. It’s tricky terrain, even for someone well-versed in the wonders of the brain.

It’s hard not to be suspicious when the man making these claims has a few earthly issues piling up at his door. The removal from the medical board certainly casts a shadow on his authority—if he’s faltering in the realm of the provable, then what does that say about his grasp of the intangible? This isn’t an unheard-of story arc. The visionary, the prophet, undone by very human missteps. Think of it as a lesson in the precariousness of human trust. We want to believe, but oh, how fragile belief becomes when weighed down by credibility gaps. You wonder, “Is this safe to believe in what he’s saying, or am I about to be fed some fanciful concoction with a side of half-truths?” It’s a fine line between spiritual revelation and storytelling embellishment.

Now, I’m not saying toss the book into the bin of literary faux pas just yet. The value of such stories isn’t solely in their objective truth (or lack thereof). It might still offer insights, emotional resonance, or reflections on life, death, and the great in-between that stir something within you, even if you keep a pinch of salt handy. You can read it for what it is—a deeply personal story, but maybe not the definitive scientific breakthrough it purports to be. But read it as you might listen to a grand storyteller: enjoying the tale, but knowing that it might be polished, embellished, and layered with the storyteller’s own subjective spice.

According to Esquire magazine’s (August 2013 issue) extensive investigation into Alexander’s life and medical background, Alexander had been fired or suspended from a number of hospital positions and had been the subject of several malpractice lawsuits, including at least two involving the alteration of medical records to conceal a medical error prior to the publication of Proof of Heaven.

The magazine also found what it claimed were discrepancies with regard to Alexander’s version of events in the book. Among the discrepancies, according to an account of the Esquire article in Forbes, was that “Alexander writes that he slipped into the coma as a result of severe bacterial meningitis and had no higher brain activity, while a doctor who cared for him says the coma was medically induced and the patient was conscious, though hallucinating.” Alexander issued a statement after the Esquire article’s publication: “I wrote a truthful account of my experiences in PROOF OF HEAVEN and have acknowledged in the book both my professional and personal accomplishments and my setbacks. I stand by every word in this book and have made its message the purpose of my life. Esquire’s cynical article distorts the facts of my 25-year career as a neurosurgeon and is a textbook example of how unsupported assertions and cherry-picked information can be assembled at the expense of the truth.”

Alexander is the author of the 2012 autobiographical book Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife, in which he asserts that his out of body and near death experience (NDE) while in a meningitis-induced coma in 2008 proves that consciousness is independent of the brain, that death is an illusion, and that an eternity of perfect splendor awaits us beyond the grave — complete with angels, clouds, and departed relatives, but also including butterflies and a beautiful girl in peasant dress who Alexander finds out later was his departed sister.

According to him, the current understanding of the mind “now lies broken at our feet ”— for “What happened to me destroyed it, and I intend to spend the rest of my life investigating the true nature of consciousness and making the fact that we are more, much more, than our physical brains as clear as I can, both to my fellow scientists and to people at large.”

Astrology Chart

Dr. Eben Alexander is a Jupiterian Sagittarian through and through, with a Sun, Mercury, and Venus all huddled in the fiery domain of Sagittarius, Alexander is not your ordinary thinker or dreamer. Sagittarius, ruled by Jupiter—the planet of expansion, wisdom, and boundless horizons—is the wanderer, the seeker of truths that lie beyond the mundane. These Sagittarian placements suggest a person propelled by a great, almost insatiable thirst for knowledge and meaning, but not just the textbook kind—no, this is a soul quest. Alexander would be driven to seek out the deep, philosophical, and spiritual realms, unafraid of leaving behind the conventional in search of what lies behind the curtain of existence.

And then there’s that opposition to Jupiter itself—how telling! Jupiter is a magnifier, the great expander, but when it opposes the Sun, it can create tension between one’s desire to grow, explore, and transcend and the reality of one’s limitations. It’s the classic myth of Icarus, flying toward the sun—there’s an expansive desire but also the risk of overreach, perhaps a little too much faith in one’s wings. You can see how this aspect might play into the good doctor’s story: a man so full of curiosity that he reaches for the stars, but might, at times, stumble in earthly matters, such as those legal entanglements. Overextension is a classic Jupiter pitfall.

Now, fire—oh yes, that’s where we really see the essence of his journey. Fire is the element of vision, spirit, the divine spark, and intuition. Sagittarians are truth-seekers, but their truth is a felt one, born out of a fire-lit quest for meaning that is deeply personal. They’re passionate, driven, restless for knowledge, and endlessly curious about the greater mysteries of life. But—and this is key—they are also driven by a need to express this truth, to spread their philosophical wings, to teach what they’ve learned. This aligns quite nicely with Alexander’s book, which isn’t just about experiencing the afterlife—it’s about sharing it, expanding the boundaries of what we think we know.

Yet there’s water bubbling beneath the surface too. His Sun trines Pluto, Mercury squares Pluto, and Mars conjuncts Neptune. The fiery Sagittarian spirit is tempered by this watery, deep, and somewhat mystical energy. Water signs, and especially aspects involving Pluto and Neptune, suggest a soul driven by transformation, depth, and an intense inner life. While fire burns brightly and craves outward expression, water seeks to merge, dissolve, and uncover the hidden. This combination of fire and water in Alexander’s chart could explain both the passion with which he pursues his spiritual journey and the depth of his experiences, such as his near-death event. There’s an intuitive, mystical undercurrent here that likely fuels his fascination with life’s great mysteries.

But water can also muddy the waters, so to speak, can’t it? Pluto, the lord of the underworld, brings with it the potential for shadow, for power struggles, for those hidden depths that sometimes drag one into darker territories—perhaps reflecting the controversies and challenges Alexander has faced. His Mars conjunct Neptune, in particular, suggests a potential for visionary action but also the risk of confusion, illusion, or even self-deception. Neptune’s influence can make the boundaries between reality and fantasy a bit too permeable.

So, what we see here is a man caught between worlds: the rational and the mystical, the fire of his Sagittarian drive to explore the cosmos, and the deep, sometimes murky waters of Plutonian and Neptunian forces pulling him into the unseen, the unknown. The zest and excitement of fire, the passion to discover, the thrill of the spiritual path—it’s all there. But so too are the pitfalls, the risks of overextension, the dangers of not seeing clearly through the Neptunian fog. It’s as if Alexander is constantly trying to strike a balance between the fire that drives him forward and the water that threatens to drown him in his own depths.

Sagittarius is our wanderer of the zodiac, our grand teacher full of ideas, each one an arrow ready to be shot into the boundless expanse of thought and philosophy. The sign’s unrelenting desire is to grow, to seek, and to expand beyond the mundane. It’s as if the world is too small for Sagittarius—too confined, too predictable. They crave the endlessness of possibility, the kind of intellectual and spiritual feast that could never be sated by just skimming the surface of life’s experiences.

Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the largest planet, and in mythology, by Zeus, the king of the gods—the bringer of enlightenment. But this isn’t the cold, hard enlightenment of an austere academic; this is the wild, thunderbolt-wielding kind of insight that hits you like a sudden storm, crashing in with both revelation and power. Liz Greene points to Sagittarius as being prone to sudden insights from the “transcendent” dimension. This speaks directly to the heart of what this sign is about. It’s not enough for Sagittarius to simply know something intellectually—they have to experience it, to experience it in a way that shakes their very being. And when they do, when that insight arrives, it’s like a fire that spreads rapidly, consuming everything in its path.

Publication, marketing, advertising are all domains where Sagittarius excels. And it makes sense, doesn’t it? This is a sign that has the gift of spreading ideas far and wide, of turning a spark of thought into a wildfire of inspiration. Sagittarians are natural communicators, not in the methodical, detail-oriented way of Mercury-ruled signs like Gemini or Virgo, but in a grand, sweeping manner. They deal in big ideas, broad visions, the kind that can be disseminated through books, media, speeches, and campaigns that aim to inspire. It’s not about the minutiae—it’s about the overarching narrative, the big picture. They don’t just teach facts; they teach meaning.

And this brings us back to Eben Alexander, doesn’t it? A Sagittarian by birth and nature, his quest for understanding the afterlife—his vision, if you will—fits perfectly with this archetype. The near-death experience he wrote about is, in a way, his lightning bolt of insight, his encounter with something beyond ordinary human comprehension. Whether you view his tale as scientifically credible or not, you can’t deny the Sagittarian impulse driving him forward—the desire to take this transcendent experience and share it, to market and publish it, to shout it from the mountaintop in the hopes that others will catch the fire of his vision.

And with the legendary character of Zeus-Jupiter backing this Sagittarian energy, there’s an even deeper significance. Zeus wasn’t just a god of storms and skies; he was the god who brought light and wisdom. His influence brings a kind of cosmic order, a sense that through experience—through expanding one’s mind and soul—one can come to understand the higher truths that govern existence. Sagittarius, guided by this principle, is always looking for something greater than themselves, something beyond the material world, something to make sense of the seemingly senseless.

But—and this is important—this kind of vision can come with risks. Sagittarius, with all its lofty ideas and spiritual zeal, can sometimes be prone to overreach. They shoot that arrow far and wide, but they don’t always account for where it might land. Their insights, while often brilliant, can sometimes be lacking in grounding. They can leap from revelation to revelation without fully examining the details, trusting that their instincts and enthusiasm will carry them through.

This is where the tension arises. For all the brilliance of Sagittarius, for all its visionary insight, there’s always the danger that the vision might outpace reality. Think of Eben Alexander’s story again—his experience, however profound, is rooted in a subjective reality that he is now trying to translate into objective truth. The Sagittarian spirit may lead him to spread that story like wildfire, but whether the flames bring light or simply burn out remains to be seen.

And there’s something almost intoxicating about the Sagittarian impulse to grow. Growth for Sagittarius isn’t just a personal pursuit—it’s a moral imperative. The archer isn’t just seeking knowledge for the sake of it; they’re seeking it because they believe that growth, expansion, and understanding are the keys to a better world, a more enlightened existence. And so they need a strong intellectual and ethical underpinning, it’s the core of their journey. The arrows they shoot must have purpose, meaning, and direction, or else they risk flying aimlessly into the void.

The element of fire, with all its passion and zest, brings that necessary drive, but without grounding, without the complementary elements of earth or water, that fire can burn too hot, too fast. So, while Sagittarians may burst forth with revelations, they must also cultivate the patience to let their ideas take root, to temper their fiery spirit with wisdom born not just of sudden insight but of careful reflection.

In religion, transcendence refers to the aspect of God’s nature and power which is wholly independent of the material universe, beyond all physical laws. This is contrasted with immanence, where God is fully present in the physical world and thus accessible to creatures in various ways. In religious experience transcendence is a state of being that has overcome the limitations of physical existence and by some definitions has also become independent of it. This is typically manifested in prayer, séance, meditation, psychedelics and paranormal “visions”. It is affirmed in the concept of the divine in the major religious traditions, and contrasts with the notion of God, or the Absolute, existing exclusively in the physical order (immanentism), or indistinguishable from it (pantheism). Transcendence can be attributed to the divine not only in its being, but also in its knowledge. Thus, God transcends the universe, but also transcends knowledge (is beyond the grasp of the human mind).

Additionally, according to Liz Greene, Sagittarius can never substantiate his claims; rather, he simply “knows” something to be true—usually after having had some sort of enlightenment.

He certainly didn’t get it by doing careful statistical research; he got it from heaven. By Liz Greene, The Development of the Personality

Sagittarius is the zodiac sign of the teacher or preacher, and their knowledge may be scientific, political, theological, or spiritual in character, depending on other factors in their chart.

The Sun-Jupiter aspect in the Doctor’s chart indicates the following:

The individual who has this contact is frequently interested in Jupiter-type hobbies such as travelling, writing, public relations, religion, spirituality, teaching, and, in general, anything that develops and expands their understanding of the universe. They are constantly on the lookout for possibilities that will allow them to develop personally. Sun-Jupiter is not typically a person who can be relied on to perform a dismal, routine work on a daily basis. They are curious about what is possible and ready to put their abilities to the best use possible while also learning more. However, in certain cases, this is seen as the individual acting as though they are above all else in the world.

The classic dilemma of Sagittarius is that the grand vision is sometimes a bit loose on the finer details. it’s always driven by a fiery conviction to spread the message, whether or not all the facts line up neatly in their wake. Dr. Eben Alexander’s journey and its reception reads like a case study in Sagittarian overreach. It’s as though his Jupiterian energy—big, expansive, full of bold claims and sweeping conclusions—carries him so far into the stratosphere of inspiration that he forgets to check if his parachute is properly packed for the fall back to earth.

The accusations of ego, overstatement, and the embellishment of qualifications. Here, we see the shadow side of that broad Sagittarian scope. Sagittarians are naturally inclined to see the world in terms of wide, sweeping narratives, and when you’ve had a magical experience like a near-death encounter with the afterlife, it’s almost impossible not to take that grand vision and turn it into a gospel of sorts. For someone as Jupiter-infused as Alexander, it’s easy to believe that the size of the story can justify a little tweaking of the details. Why get bogged down with accuracy when you’re staring into the infinite, right? The intention may not even be to deceive, but in the pursuit of conveying the immensity of what they see, Sagittarians can sometimes overlook the need for precision. It’s a bit like being so enthralled with a starry sky that you forget to check the ground beneath your feet.

That being said, it’s no surprise that some readers have found the book wordy. Sagittarians love to talk, especially when they’re passionate about something. They’re ruled by Jupiter, after all, the planet of expansion, which makes them prone to verbosity and a tendency to inflate their stories, not necessarily because they’re trying to mislead, but because they’re intoxicated by the scope of their ideas. The challenge is that, for some, this can come across as rambling or, worse, as arrogance. The very nature of Sagittarius is to preach—to share their truth in a way that makes you feel like they’ve got the inside scoop on life itself. But if the delivery feels overblown or self-important, the message risks falling flat. When it comes to doubters, this tendency to focus on the “big picture” at the expense of smaller, critical details might fuel skepticism.

Hyperbole can be the Achilles’ heel of Sagittarius. It’s all too easy for them to drift into exaggeration when the story they’re telling feels so urgent and important. They want people to feel the weight of what they’ve experienced, but in doing so, they might accidentally tip the scales into embellishment. In the case of Alexander, these Jupiterian tendencies seem to have led to accusations of deception. Was he being deliberately misleading, or was he simply swept away by the grandeur of his story, thinking that the ends justified the means? This is the risk with Sagittarius: their truth is often so bound up in their vision that they don’t always recognize when they’ve strayed from factual accuracy.

But—and this is crucial—Sagittarius is also known for their integrity when they are aligned with their higher purpose. Their quest for truth is not a shallow one; they are genuinely driven by a desire to understand the world and their place in it, and this can give them a strong moral compass. When they’re at their best, their inner conviction is almost unshakable. The good doctor, despite his missteps, may well be someone who believes deeply in what he’s saying. In his mind, he’s experienced something so immense that it transcends the minor inaccuracies. He’s seen the big picture, and in typical Sagittarian fashion, he wants everyone else to see it too.

The problem, of course, is that society doesn’t function well on broad strokes alone. We live in a world that requires footnotes, fact-checks, and accountability—things that can feel constricting to a Sagittarius who’s more interested in the sweeping nature of enlightenment than the fine print. They don’t do well when hemmed in by limitations, whether those are practical, professional, or intellectual. Alexander’s brush with the medical board and legal concerns may stem from this tension: a man driven by a cosmic vision who struggled with the more grounded aspects of his profession, where the devil, as they say, is in the details.

But it’s not all shadow and hyperbole. Let’s not forget the positive side of Sagittarius—the wisdom, the education, the deep sense of ethics. When you take away the embellishment, the core of what motivates people like Alexander is often a genuine desire to understand the world, to grow, and to help others see what they’ve seen. Sagittarians are natural philosophers, always searching for meaning, and they often have a strong sense of honesty—just not always in the conventional, fact-checking sense. Their honesty is more about the emotional and spiritual truth of what they’ve experienced. And this can make them powerful teachers and guides, provided they remain aware of the dangers of overstating their case.

The Sagittarian spirit is eternally restless, ever-seeking, and driven by the belief that life is more than just the mundane grind, more than the day-to-day trivialities that can so easily confine the soul. To a Sagittarius, life without meaning is like a map with no destinations, a journey with no purpose. And they’re not just content with a narrow slice of reality, oh no. They want the whole pie, the cosmic feast, to taste the grandness of existence in all its diverse and electrifying flavors. It’s no wonder then that they’re drawn to philosophies, religions, and belief systems that promise a bigger, more purposeful life.

For a Sagittarian, the quest for meaning isn’t some idle hobby—it’s the very air they breathe. It’s what fuels their passion and their insatiable curiosity. And there’s that delicious paradox: in their quest for meaning, Sagittarians often attract a huge following. People can’t help but be drawn to their enthusiasm, their unwavering belief in something greater than themselves. It’s a contagious kind of confidence. Sagittarians don’t just think they know the way—they believe it with every fiber of their being. That kind of conviction, that burning belief in the righteousness of their path, has a gravitational pull. Even when they’re wrong, they’re often so confident that others can’t help but think, “Well, maybe they’re onto something.”

It’s this combination of faith and charisma that gives Sagittarians their leadership potential. They’re not your methodical, cautious planners—no, they’re the preachers, the philosophers, the ones shouting from the mountaintop that there’s more to life, that there’s something just beyond the horizon worth chasing. It’s no surprise that religious leaders, philosophers, and even political ideologues often have strong Sagittarian traits. They need to *believe*, and that belief is what drives their search for meaning, for truth, for something that makes the universe seem a little less chaotic and a little more ordered.

Yet, they also despise confinement—whether physical, intellectual, or spiritual. The very idea of being locked into one belief system or one narrow way of thinking makes Sagittarians squirm. They need freedom, the freedom to explore, to discover, to challenge the boundaries of conventional thought. And this often puts them at odds with systems of thought or environments that demand conformity or obedience. Sagittarians are, at their core, rebels of the mind and spirit. They’re always looking for that next idea, that next piece of the puzzle that might make the whole picture clearer. To pin them down is to strip them of their essence.

Jupiter is the key to understanding this Sagittarian yearning. The largest planet, the bringer of thunderbolts, Jupiter is symbolic of expansion—of mind, spirit, and experience. It’s no small wonder that Jupiter is associated with the figure of the all-powerful sky god, the father in heaven who offers not just protection but also the possibility of transcendence. The thunderbolt is not just a weapon; it’s a symbol of enlightenment, the sudden spark that ignites the skies and reveals hidden truths.

For Sagittarians, this connection to Jupiter is a deep, almost primal desire to be part of something greater than themselves, to feel as though their lives have meaning beyond the material. They want to connect with that “father in heaven,” that cosmic order that makes sense of the chaos. Whether it’s through religion, philosophy, or some other form of spiritual seeking, they are always looking for that sense of belonging to a larger story. Life, to them, is a pilgrimage, a journey towards greater understanding, a quest to touch the divine and make it part of their everyday existence.

But, as always, there’s a shadow side to all this cosmic striving. In their pursuit of freedom and meaning, Sagittarians can sometimes lose sight of the practical, the grounded realities of life. They can be so focused on the big picture that they overlook the small but crucial details—details that keep them tethered to reality. And their intense belief in their own vision can sometimes make them come across as dogmatic or unwilling to listen to other perspectives. When that Jupiterian energy gets out of balance, it can turn into hubris—a dangerous belief that they alone hold the truth, that their vision is the only one that matters.

This might explain some of the controversies surrounding Dr. Eben Alexander and his story. He, like many Sagittarians, seems driven by a powerful belief in the validity of his experiences, and it’s this belief that has propelled him to share his vision with the world. Whether or not his tale holds up under scrutiny, there’s no denying the strength of his conviction. And that conviction, that burning faith in something greater, is what makes Sagittarians such compelling figures, even when their stories raise eyebrows.

Colin Wilson’s book on the Afterlife contains a number of intriguing ideas, one of which is the one presented here about the differences between some of the things we see in the spirit world and those we see in the physical world.

“What Steiner is saying here is something that soon dawns on most readers accounts of near death experiences. Some find themselves walking towards a celestial city, some find themselves in flowery meadows, some find themselves drawn towards a heavenly gateway or a whirlpool of light. It looks as if everyone is interpreting the experience in terms of their own familiar concepts. Steiner is suggesting that visionaries like Swedenborg, who have caught a glimpse of the ‘supersensible world’ are bound to interpret it according to their ingrained mental habits, and that this explains why the revelations of spiritualism often seem slightly ludicrous.