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Those visitors who expressed reservations about the finality of my spiritual enlightenment had just cause for concern. For two weeks after my supposed awakening, a newfound clarity made life easy and rewarding. Thoughts of helping seemed natural, and I enjoyed abundant energy for my mission of guiding others away from depression. But then reality intruded on my peace. My wife and I live adjacent to San Francisco Bay, very close to sea level. As rainy weather continued for weeks, I began to hate the damp cold. When the sun wasn’t obscured by rain clouds, it shone only dimly through a low shroud of mist, and the shadowy light began to get me down. Unwisely, I discontinued one of my medications after months of slow tapering. Prompted by someone else’s comment, which had little to do with my situation, I became obsessed with futile thoughts of reentering medicine. And then there was the lukewarm (at best) reception of my new ideas about how to alleviate depression; no one in either my day-to-day life or on the internet seemed particularly interested. It turned out to be more than my fragile psyche could bear.

The low feelings were tolerable for about a week. During that time my thinking remained balanced, and I patiently waited for the cycle to play itself out. I endeavored to meditate consistently and stay centered. But finally the downward pressure on my spirits overcame me. Yesterday it took all my strength just to drag myself to the gym for thirty minutes. As used to be routine, I found myself wondering, “what’s the point?” Having sunk to this level frustrated me all the more because I know better. What happened to my insights into the true nature of human life? Where went the new alignment of my priorities? Meditating on the unity and rightness of the cosmos brought only temporary wisdom and peace. By yesterday the depression had progressed into a suicidal realm. I simply could not let go of obsessions about my flawed personality, my lack of productivity, my chronic isolation, and my unpromising future. Self. Self. Self.

It would be nice to say everything feels fine today. I would love to announce that selflessness has returned with the same forceful clarity as before; certainly, I am closer that goal. But it’s an uphill battle. It makes me revisit my old conviction that a chemical imbalance contributes to my unhappiness. Perhaps there are depressed corners in my brain that ego suppression won’t always reach. I resist that conclusion for now, and continue to work on regaining that thrilling and heartfelt understanding of my true nature. I hope to reconnect with my recent, stirring awareness of the transience of my problems, and the importance of altruism. If intention is enough, I will get better. Things do seem a little lighter today.

Of course, today the sun also shines outside my window, and I enjoy a nice view of water, wetlands, and little Mt. Burdell in the distance. That alone helps alleviate the heaviness. (The picture heading this post was taken through my window just now, in late afternoon light.)

It’s a good sign that I’m here writing. For several days there seemed to be little point. Even with my posts occasionally appearing at PsychCentral, there has been scant evidence to suggest that my message is catching on. For several days before today, every session at the computer ended with the thought, “why bother?” I felt overwhelmed by the fact that blogs are inefficient at attracting readers, and the necessity of delivering my message on Facebook instead. That site doesn’t appeal to me, and the idea of aggressively finding ‘friends’ is unpleasant, to say the least. I’ve toyed with abandoning writing on the internet altogether.

But now I’m back. It helps to let go of all attachment to ‘carrying a message’. Soon after my transcendent experiences, it seemed absolutely vital for me to spread the word that depression can be lightened by escaping ego dominance. Today, I can accept that my role may simply be to enjoy the fruits of that truth. I am more able to accept that I may lack the personality, skills and energy needed to educate others. In fact, right now it feels like I’m under a spiritual mandate to experience exactly these limitations, without resistance. It is an important, though painful lesson.

It comes with an interesting twist. I see more than the mere acceptance of failure; I understand the need to keep trying in spite of it.

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