WillSpirit

Where Will meets Spirit
∞ A Blog Devoted to Balance, Peace, and Clarity ∞

A formerly depressed physician tells stories of trauma, grief and recovery, and offers suggestions for emerging from darkness, living with mood swings, and awakening to life.








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    • Dear Visitors:
      Although I trained and practiced as a physician, my background does not include formal instruction in psychiatry beyond basic medical education. This journal presents ideas about treatment philosophy, but must not be considered therapeutic advice. Abrupt changes in one's psychiatric medications can trigger profound cognitive, emotional, and physical symptoms, including suicidal thoughts and actions. Consequently, pharmaceutical agents should not be increased or decreased without supervision by a mental health clinician.

    • ON THE OTHER HAND, your brain belongs to you, and your opinion counts. If you decide that changing your medication regimen will serve your best interest, then I believe your providers have an obligation to help you try to achieve your goals. I want everyone to be educated about their options, and do what will be most helpful for themselves. No one should feel pushed around by dogmatic and/or limited viewpoints, whether those of psychiatrists, anti-psychiatry advocates, or myself.




First Love

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After perusing a variety of texts about spiritual growth, I better understand the universality of my recent stirring mind states. This perspective helps, because it is easy to get carried away after numinous experiences. Hopefully, visitors will forgive my naïve enthusiasm and beginner’s ignorance.

It is no secret that profound experiences have blessed many people around the world and throughout human history. Those committed to spiritual paths devote their lives to seeking and exploring such epiphanies, and no doubt enjoy far greater understanding, equanimity, and wisdom than I ever will. My purpose here is only to describe my particular journey, and perhaps offer hope to others burdened with chronic depression. The most important fact of my ‘breakthrough’ is that it has swept away most of my misery. Even when I stumble and feel defeated for a few days, the memory of a better place remains, and the ease with which I exit the darkness astounds me. Six months ago my plan was to learn how to live a full life in spite of depression. That I would ever be completely free of it, even temporarily, seemed impossible. Before, in my best frames of mind, there remained patches of depression that threatened me with shade, like scattered clouds on an otherwise sunny day. Now I spend the majority of my time feeling light and balanced, with no ominous darkness on the horizon. And when depression does descend it doesn’t linger, it leaves behind no shadow, and while it lasts I appreciate its solemn beauty (most of the time, at least).

The Varieties of Religious Experience, by William James, is familiar to many western seekers of spiritual growth. The book describes the vast range of spiritual frames of mind, and the large variety of ways we reach them. Sometimes a person achieves transcendence after years of meditation, study, and intention. Spiritual awareness accumulates gradually as the result of such effort, with progress punctuated by moments of sudden growth. But a life of seeking is not required. Not infrequently, a person ‘awakens’ in the aftermath of catastrophic stress or after collapse into utter despair. Crisis and failure offer us the opportunity to give up the fight and drop all barriers. The reward can be a flood of clarity, acceptance, and universal love.

If I were to classify my current situation, it would fall between those extremes. Although I have certainly not devoted my life to a quest for meaning, I nonetheless have been studying and searching. And despite a decade of bad luck, nothing in the past year has been particularly awful, nor did my ego disintegrate in an acute moment of hopelessness.

The nature of my recent spiritual experiences also lies between extremes. Ten years ago a series of ‘visions’ transported me into a mood of wide-eyed ecstasy, a kaleidoscope of marvelous sensory experiences, and a conviction that I had seen and spoken with God. A more magnificent and soul-quaking episode would be hard to imagine. However, much of the mental content was unbalanced, irrational, or poorly grounded. Although the clarity and salience of recent weeks equaled those of the earlier episode, they were not accompanied by ecstasy or hallucinations. As I’ve discussed, strictly supernatural beliefs played no role. Instead, what I know to be true about how the world is structured and how my life has unfolded took on a new light. Every particle of my mind understood that the universe is both dispassionately random, and lovingly numinous. This sounds paradoxical when stated in words, but from a state of exquisite nonverbal awareness, it made perfect sense. This solidly sane sacred experience felt just as profound as the arguably insane ‘religious visions’ of a decade earlier. But it was a little less intense, and was free of ‘delusional’ and ‘hallucinatory’ content.

Looking at the other end of the spectrum, I’ve explored mindfulness meditation for some years, and the recent ‘awakenings’ felt akin to the state of wordless peace that comes with such practice. The way I felt intensely ‘alive’, for instance, mirrored the way mindfulness brings one in touch with one’s body and sensory surroundings without the intervening filter of the verbal mind. In fact, three days ago it was a combination of meditation and acupuncture that returned me (for a whole afternoon) to the frame of resonant clarity that began with my spiritual retreat in January, and which is becoming more and more familiar. But the psychic impact of my recent moments of understanding exceeded that of even the deepest meditative states I’d previously achieved.

Experienced practitioners probably read my descriptions with a bit of amusement. I must sound like an adolescent who has just discovered sensual romantic love, and thinks he or she has stumbled on something personal and exceptional, when in fact it is universal and expected. But even if everyone else already knows about such love, it’s new to the teenaged romantic, and soul-penetrating clarity is new to me. So I hope those further along this path will indulge my childlike wonder.

First Love was published on February 11th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

Wise Waters

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Along with time, meditation and acupuncture have restored my balance. Most of this afternoon I enjoyed the same clarity and awareness that permeated my being after my January spiritual retreat. There is less upwelling of my spirits this time; the mood is solemn rather than elated. This time around, it is like being in the presence of a great work of art: one remains quiet and reverent before such beauty. A month ago, it was as if I had exited a dimly lit room and stepped into the thrill and lightness of an afternoon in springtime.

I believe the repeated loss and regaining of Peace (with a capital ‘P’) have educated me. It is as if the waters of awareness become familiar as I watch them ebb and flow, and the fact that I have only limited ability to summon a flood tide becomes more obvious. With meditation, I can bring myself to the shore, but whether the sea rises to meet me depends on deeply unconscious or even celestial forces. All I can do is walk onto the warm sands, and wait for the ocean’s embrace.

Sometimes the surf comes with great force, and sometimes it develops slowly. Sometimes I get only a brief moment’s splash, and yet in January I remained immersed for nearly two weeks. In the past few days I’ve experimented with various methods of opening my heart to this mysterious water. Today it rolled in powerfully during my acupuncture session, but only because I settled my mind, moved my consciousness into my chest and heart, and tried to be as receptive and present as possible. I pictured myself adrift in the currents of time. I saw how events and circumstances have always moved by me in time’s flow; today, I tried not to grasp for what’s coming, or cling to what has already drifted by. With that practice, I found myself first lapped and then engulfed by the liquid of quiet clarity. Every time I ‘liked’ the experience, it receded, but when I simply accepted the comings and goings without evaluating or trying to influence them, my being sank deeper and deeper into wordless understanding. Ever since I left the acupuncture suite I’ve been exploring the quirks and eddies of this vast sea. I see how it is endlessly shifting, and yet unchanging. Present only in this moment, and yet eternal.

Wise Waters was published on February 8th, 2010 . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.

Try, Try Again

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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.

Try, Try Again was published on February 6th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 16 comments on this article so far.

The Tyranny of Self

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In one of those strange and common coincidences, after completing the last post about altruism I came across someone else’s elegant discussion of the exact same issue. The late Carl Sagan and his wife, Ann Druyan, published Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors in 1993. They discuss altruism early on, and their take on the relevant principles of behavioral ecology is (not surprisingly) better informed than mine. To account for the widespread occurrence of apparent altruism, they invoke a diffusion of the instincts that support kin selection. In brief, they suggest that if there is a strong likelihood that neighbors share genes, then a blanket policy of helping out will tend to spread. Anyone interested would do well to read the book. It gives a nice history of the biology of the human race, and offers insightful observations about the possible sources of many Homo sapien characteristics.

But the roots of altruism are not as important as its effects. Regardless of why animals and people sometimes help one another, we can take comfort that the behavior occurs. If everyone acted with relentless selfishness, we would stand little chance of surviving the many crises we face as a species. Even though we are spoon fed a consumerist ethic that glorifies self-gratification, there are many people who devote themselves to the common good.

Having people ‘out there’ who like to help is a delightful thing. Even better is having an inner desire to help others. The last essay alluded to the fact that altruistic behavior makes people feel good. Every time we set selfish interests aside, and devote our energies to larger concerns, we grow wiser and more mature. The minute we quit focusing on our personal and constricting worries and problems, and start seeing the difficulties faced by others, we find that life is easier to bear. One sad fact about depression is that it encourages us to retract into ourselves and expend energy in fruitless battles against psychic demons. Unfortunately, dark moods and pessimistic attitudes get stronger the more we attend to them. It is far more healing to look outside and help others than it is to gaze inward in hopes of defeating our many internal enemies.

By adopting an altruistic attitude we gain by: 1) taking attention away from negative obsessions; 2) seeing our problems from a broader perspective; and 3) developing connections with other people. Let’s consider these in turn.

1) No one has ever cured an obsession by obsessing about it. The best way to escape negative cycles of thought and mood is to shift attention away from them. Although thinking differently about a tough situation can reduce pessimism, it is often better to not think about it at all. When we contemplate a potential loss, we should be careful not to exaggerate its likelihood, or overestimate its negative impact, or ignore our sources of support. But unless there is concrete action we can take right now, we will find the greatest relief by diverting our thoughts toward something else. And one of the most healing things to think about is how we can help another person.

2) As soon as we search for ways to help others, we awaken to the fact that suffering is widespread. Whatever our problems and fears, there are people who have greater difficulties and more to worry about. Seeing this, we recognize that much of the world shares our anxiety. We begin to feel gratitude for what is good in our lives, rather than anger and terror about what is—or might become—bad.

3) We also start to meet people who face similar problems. We find that by offering them support, we receive a measure of comfort in return. We enjoy richer connections with our fellow travelers on this lovely planet. The torment of isolation gives way to the treasure of community.

Aside from these concrete benefits, opening our arms to help others is a good way to escape being dominated and tormented by the egocentric parts of our minds.

Our biggest problem is not that we live in a difficult world. Our suffering does not come from outside. Our biggest challenge is overcoming the verbal and logical mind’s conviction that it is the most important object in the universe. Not only does the ego disregard the suffering of other people, it denies the value—and often the very existence—of older and wiser parts of the human brain. It insists on satisfying its endless hungers before it permits feelings of contentment. Since those appetites are rarely sated for more than a few moments at a time, the ego keeps us on an endless treadmill of striving and self-aggrandizement. The best gift of altruism is that it begins to free us from the clutches of this internal and miserable tyrant.

The Tyranny of Self was published on February 3rd, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

The Nature of Altruism

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Evolutionary biologists question whether there is any such thing as true altruism. The problem is that most, if not all, natural selection operates on the level of individual fitness. It is therefore difficult to see how genes for genuine self-sacrifice could survive the dispassionate fact that if you give up your resources (or life) for a stranger, you help someone else reproduce at the expense of your own chances to leave offspring. Any gene that promotes truly self-sacrificing behavior will tend to be eliminated due to diminished reproduction, unless it promotes self-sacrifice in the other guy. This seemingly bleak conclusion accounts for some of the uneasiness that the theory of natural selection provokes in religious circles. What happens to moral principles if altruism is an illusion?

Long ago, a girlfriend’s grandmother opened my eyes to a rather cold-hearted view of generosity. A Belgian aristocrat, she had ideas quite foreign to my liberal Californian values. She believed that even when people behave charitably, they primarily do it to make themselves feel better. These do-gooders only look selfless; in reality, they are self-righteous and self-congratulatory. She argued that empathy is merely disguised pity, and that generosity is nothing but a tool for ego-inflation.

Even though the concept of altruism faces these challenges, we cannot deny that it is one of the cornerstones of humane behavior. Must we discard the widespread belief that good people act selflessly, and conclude that in reproductive and/or emotional terms, those who appear to sacrifice themselves actually accrue net benefits?

In nature, one often sees what looks like altruism. The prairie dog that barks when a hawk flies overhead seems to risk its life for the sake of the group. The raptor will swoop down and catch that critter preferentially, will it not? But careful observations have shown that alarm calls improve the survival chances of the caller, not just the group. In those cases where reproductive fitness is genuinely sacrificed for the welfare of another animal, further examination typically reveals that the animals are relatives. A basic principle of natural selection is that individuals can often pass more of their genes on to the next generation by helping kin (who share those genes) than by pursuing personal survival. These behaviors do not count as strict altruism, since the end result is greater transmission of the responsible genes.

In the human world, true altruism is easier to find, although some examples that come first to mind don’t count. A mother running in front of a bus to push her child out of the way does not, in biological terms, perform a net sacrifice (she may very well ensure propagation of her genes by this rescue). A fireman running into a building is ‘only’ doing his job (albeit a dangerous and noble one). One can even discount the commonly reported battlefield heroics, because soldiers are indoctrinated to think of one another as (effectively) brothers. So saving a fellow combatant may represent activation of the genetically acquired tendency to support the survival of kin.

Despite these cold-hearted critiques, it seems safe to conclude that some examples of self-sacrifice are truly altruistic. They are not done to save kin (genetic or cultural), and are not done as part of paid employment. This does not close the door on the cynical attitude that charity is a way of puffing up the self, but I believe that argument is specious anyway. Everything we do, at all times, we do because on balance it seems like the correct response to the circumstance. Of course doing good things makes us feel good about ourselves; but that does not mean we aren’t genuinely concerned about the person we help. Jesus made a point of criticizing those who perform charity loudly, for show, and there are certainly times when people do ‘good works’ in order to garner attention and respect. But there are also many who are motivated by sincere kindness toward strangers.

But that isn’t my point. For the sake of argument, let’s presume that every act that looks altruistic is actually self-serving. Even if charitable acts are performed for selfish reasons, they still help. Better that people do the right thing for the wrong reasons, than never do the right thing at all. And how could it be a bad thing that a generous person benefits from helping someone out?

Regardless of its root cause, the fact that people (and even animals) sometimes put others before themselves is a beautiful feature of life. We should nurture selfless tendencies, even if they initially arose from selfish causes. Every spiritual system I’ve studied values helping others, and for good reason. Like humility, ego abandonment, and mental discipline, altruism promotes emotional wellness in both the giver and the receiver.

The Nature of Altruism was published on February 1st, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

Experience to Exegesis

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Recent posts have alluded to the ‘awakening’ I experienced during the middle part of January. Perhaps you have noticed that details have been slow in coming. The episode had such impact, and seemed so special, that I’ve wanted to savor and assimilate it before taking the risk of describing it badly. How could I possibly do it justice? If it is not entirely beyond words, it will certainly be reduced by them. So please forgive the hesitance with which I am spelling it out.

Not only do I have trouble describing what happened, I can’t even categorize it properly. In terms of emotional impact, it had much in common with the ‘psychosis’ that overwhelmed my mind in 2000. At that time, my universe came alive with divine forces and holy beings. Afterwards, everyone around me suffered through long descriptions of what I called ‘my religious visions’. Because the amazing sights, sounds, and feelings had seemed to be the handiwork of supernatural agencies, I believed them ’spiritual’ in every sense of the word. What happened this January had the same emotional impact, but the causes seemed different. Whereas before I heard holy voices and met divine spirits, this time nothing supernatural seemed to be at play. I felt a profound connection with my surroundings, and enjoyed a penetrating clarity about my true condition as a human being. But I did not hear, feel, or see any gods or angels. My thinking did not go in that direction at all.

So was this experience ’spiritual’, or not? Consider that it: 1) made me exquisitely aware of the profuse (and unarguable) connections between all life forms; 2) showed me my insignificance in the face of a vast and mysterious cosmos; 3) helped me recognize that the universe is perfect in its own way; and 4) reminded me of what a privilege it is to be a witness. Because I felt both humbled and absorbed by the cosmos, and because the universe struck me as exactly ‘right’, the episode counts as an awakening. And yet everything that I saw and felt, or that comforted me, came from either scientific knowledge or day-to-day experience. Whatever happened cannot be labelled ’secular’, because it felt so numinous. But it did not seem supernatural, either. Can it be called ’spiritual’ if it did not involve ’spirits’?

My awakening can be described as a ’sacred’ experience, even if it was not a strictly spiritual one. Although dictionary definitions of ’sacred’ mostly relate to ‘God or gods’, there is also the meaning: ‘highly valued or important’. In that sense, I found myself recognizing how we inhabit a sacred universe, where every particle holds tremendous significance. Which, if you think about it, is not much of a stretch. For the simplest example, isn’t it spectacular that protons exist? And that they comprise even smaller particles called quarks, which evidently contain even smaller things of some sort (strings?). With my awakened state of mind, these momentous truths almost overwhelmed me. I was awestruck by the enormity of my surroundings, and yet I felt both absorbed and supported by them. The universe was not somehow separate from ‘me’, and I could find no objective boundary between the outside world and my inner mind. I also had absolute confidence that there are no flaws in the cosmos. Everything is as it must be. Although the reality of tragedy remained quite clear, I saw that in the larger scheme of things, it is unavoidable. Hardship is inseparable from life. In short, I knew the universe to be profound, one with me, and perfect.

Later, as the impact of this experience hit home, I found an entirely new attitude toward life. No longer obsessed with my small inner concerns, I now have much more appreciation of the larger, outer world. My depression and anxiety have lightened to the point where they hardly deserve those names any longer. Not that I feel giddy or supremely ‘happy’. An undertone of sorrow can still be heard anytime I slow down and listen. But it is a special kind of sadness, with an almost inexpressible, sorrowful majesty. Everything in this universe, including my depression, holds beauty of one kind or another.

Not only was my experience ’sacred’, therefore, it was also transformative. After years of very slow and incremental change, I found myself leaping over barriers that had seemed insurmountable and permanent just a week earlier. My mental health jumped to a new plateau. There is room for a great deal more growth and maturity, of course, but I made more progress in January than in the entire decade between 2000 and 2010.

Having been granted a sacred, transformative awakening that followed specific actions and contemplations, I suspect that something in my experience might assist others. My first obligation, and the one way I might be able to help, is to write.

Experience to Exegesis was published on January 29th, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.

Where next?

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Recent posts have, hopefully, demonstrated big changes in my mindset and emotional stability. A profound awakening has lifted me out of my rut and set me on a new path. But where is this new road headed?

For the past thirty years I’ve worked to overcome chronic depression, and other emotional challenges. There have been some successes, and some excited moments, but low moods have remained stubbornly clamped over my heart. Twenty years ago, attendance at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings convinced me to look for a ’spiritual’ solution. I toyed with Buddhism, but ended up in the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers, which had been the spiritual heritage of my maternal ancestors. Since it demands few doctrinal beliefs, it fit me well. But although I attended countless Meetings for Worship, and many weekend retreats, my so-called spirituality remained an intellectual exercise. I liked the idea of deeper forces in the cosmos, but I never felt connected with anything more than curiosity.

Ten years ago I enjoyed my first set of spiritual breakthroughs, during a diagnosed ‘psychotic episode’. Some of them had a Christian theme, which prompted my conversion to Roman Catholicism. After five years or so, my glowing convictions about Christ faded back into the atheism of my upbringing. Once again, I found myself in need of a spiritual home, only now it seemed clear that lasting belief in supernatural concepts was beyond me. Even with another try, Buddhism remained a poor fit for my personality and philosophy. Tenets about reincarnation would have been easy to sidestep as a Western Buddhist, but the emphasis on reason, although laudable, reminded me too much of science. Rigid scientific thinking seemed to be part of my problem.

Two weeks ago I had my second series of spiritual breakthroughs. During them, ideas that had been building in my mind for many years coalesced into an empirically based worldview, but one that did not rely on scientific reasoning. It came to me by wordlessly, without resistance, embracing known facts about what it means to be a human. After the epiphany blossomed, I pulled out the book, 365 Tao by Deng Ming-Dao and read a few random pages. To my amazement, the texts articulated a worldview nearly identical to the one that had flooded me after years of struggle. The book had been buried in my little home library the entire time, but I had never opened it before. (Although I had often meditated on the shorter and more cryptic Tao Tse Tung.) There were minor differences in perspective, but in essence the end result of all my grappling had been on my bookshelf the entire time. Taoism seems to have roots deep in a receptive awareness of nature. I reached my similar frame of mind through opening myself, without resistance and with as little ‘thought’ as possible, to the awesome sweep of proven biology and physics (it’s no coincidence that I have a Master’s degree in biophysics).

Taoism is based on an abstract idea (The Tao) that stands for an all-encompassing, endlessly mysterious, and deeply consistent animating principle. There is little if anything blatantly supernatural, at least not in the little Taoism I’ve read so far. My experience remains hard to articulate, but it came from taking all my knowledge of our physical and biological nature, and allowing it to sweep through my heart. Doing so prompted a soul-saturating awareness of the ‘rightness’ and ‘interconnectedness’ of creation.

It needs to be emphasized that I don’t rule out the possibility of overtly supernatural phenomena such as ‘God’ or reincarnation. However, I learned that such beliefs are not needed to support a spiritual awakening every bit as profound as my one of ten years earlier, at which time the idea of God had been central.

When I began my spiritual journey, it would have been impossible to predict that it would end like this. All I could do was stumble blindly until the pieces fell in place. Possibly, I could have picked up 365 Tao a decade ago, and been spared the struggle. But it is more likely that the words would have remained veiled until a designated and unpredictable moment when my eyes were opened.

It is hard to overstate the value of the awareness that has come to me. It has melted away my petty, egoistic concerns. It has given me faith that the universe is benign, and that despite the inevitable traumas of life, I will be safe. It has prompted me heart to literally ache with the desire to help others find peace. It has swept away decades of depression and cynicism. And it only invokes truths that most rational and educated people would accept.

So what is my next obligation? Where do I go from here?

Where next? was published on January 28th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 10 comments on this article so far.

The Rational Wings of Faith

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In light of my recent awakening the mystical seems thoroughly mixed with the mundane. Even ’secular’ mental health topics now lead me beneath the paving stones of structured thought. It has become obvious that everything ordinary is a bit magical, and everything magical is a bit ordinary. There is something beyond understanding in the simple fall of a raindrop, while the prosaic rhythm of our hearts paces the most profound religious moments.

‘Magic’, as used here, refers to things the logical mind discounts. These include connections that can’t be proven, wisdom without worldly value, and love as a guiding principle. It helps to embrace such things if we seek faith, but we do not need to invoke blatantly supernatural forces. My awakening demonstrated that spiritual connection does not require belief in phenomena that violate the normal patterns of events. And for the record, ’spiritual connection’ can be coarsely described as awareness that the self is small, and that the universe is meaningful and alive with interdependence.

There are countless paths that lead to openness. Many find faith in a supreme deity, but those without such beliefs can still experience deep and universal connections. (Note that faith is available without theistic convictions, but this by no means rules out a creative, omniscient God.) Traditional Buddhism relies on the expectation of reincarnation; commitment to escaping the cycle of rebirth motivates the entire practice. But meaningful peace can be achieved without these tenets, whether reincarnation occurs or not. In fact, no specific set of beliefs is essential to feeling supported by the currents of mystery.

My uncompleted series of spiritual essays were put forward to counter (seemingly) rational obstructions to feeling connected with deep forces. Fervent materialists, for instance, base their views on narrow interpretations of scientific findings. A broader look at established facts can undermine such arguments. The series’ goal was to counteract resistance caused by rigid and false reasoning.

After writing out ideas that had been accumulating for years, I awakened to some simple but profound truths. If our egos did not keep us in blinders, I realized, we would better appreciate the magic of life. We would know that we live in the midst of a blossoming miracle. We would feel how matter, energy, and consciousness evolve and intertwine all around us. At first, this direct experience made me think my rational arguments had been superfluous and unnecessary. Why even bother with the ego’s petty objections, when the truth is so elegant and apparent?

Then my transcendent awareness receded. Although vivid memories remain, direct experience is elusive. This proves what spiritual pilgrims have always found: discrete ecstatic moments, while valuable, are not enough. One must make ongoing efforts to remain open. In Achieving Enlightenment the Dalai Lama talks of two types of meditation. In the ‘analytical’ kind, one uses reason to explore truth, which then informs meditations that set thought aside. So using the mind to investigate the validity, source and meanings of faith might actually be a useful practice. Combined with quiet sitting and altruistic efforts, it might help a person (like me) stay spiritually centered. So why not continue the series?

A new motivation to proceed with my spiritual project is also apparent. After my recent awakening, depression that had tormented me for decades lost power. My heart remains at peace, even though I continue to feel bodily sadness, ancient grief, and shadows of trauma. Moods still ebb and flow, and dark clouds still roll across my mental landscape, but my core feels safe because of faith. In essence, by breaking down my ego, and embracing deeper realities, my soul attained abiding serenity.

Importantly, my soul-shaking experience arose without belief in anything blatantly supernatural. No supreme deity, no reincarnation, no disembodied spirits. (Again, I am not saying any religious principles are wrong; only that they are unnecessary to effective faith.) Rational ideas about creation, and looking at my situation with clarity and perspective, opened me to a wordless experience of cosmic unity.

The significance cannot be overstated. Faith that arose alongside a strict belief in science led to mental health. Psychotherapy (including CBT and ACT), 12-step programs, and self-help books helped get me ready to change. But experiential faith, based on logically supportable thought provided wings that lifted me away from the gravity of my suffering. Since others might find peace along this path, my story must be told.

Growth might have been easier within an established religion. But an atheist upbringing and years of scientific training blocked me from becoming a convinced Christian, Buddhist, or anything else. Those traditions and others informed me, but left me short of my goal. Do many besides me desire faith, but feel blocked by rational objections? It’s hard to say. And whether my ideas will help is also unknown. But the same feeling of connection that shook me awake prompts me to resume the series.

The Rational Wings of Faith was published on January 26th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.

Escaping the Ego’s Web

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Regardless of one’s beliefs about the existence of transcendent realms, human beings need something akin to spirituality to counteract ego dominance. Religious systems encourage humility in order to bring practitioners out of self, and into appreciation of a larger reality. People argue about ‘God’, and obsess about whether we live in a purely material world versus one with mystical foundations. But debates about the nature of the cosmos, while fascinating and important, could be sidestepped if there were an easy way to escape the ego’s tyrrany.

Although I know only a little about philosophy, my understanding of evolution is a bit more sophisticated. Recently, I read the textbook Animal Behavior, by John Alcock, which looks at the subject from an evolutionary perspective. It rounded out ideas that first came my way through Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Despite the rudimentary abilities of certain apes, only humans employ verbal, rational, and linear thought. Predictive skills and long-range strategizing appear to have evolved only recently. Other animals have minds of some sort, but they must work differently from ours. Anyone with a dog knows it has desires, and abilities to communicate them. A dog is good at getting humans to provide what it wants. But one of the wonderful things about canine pets is their lack of guile. They don’t plan, manipulate, deceive, or ‘think’ long term. Those are uniquely human qualities. Although animals have very complicated, and even flexible, behaviors, they do not have complex thinking. Such cognition is a new development on earth.

ACT starts with the premise that we suffer from overactivity in the ‘newer’ parts of the brain, which generate complex and abstract thinking. Adept at describing, comparing, predicting, and judging, the human thought apparatus has proven its strengths in developing technology. From stone tools to agriculture to industrialization to the internet, our cognition has created the sophisticated and tangled culture we see today. For all our mastery of nature, however, we have lost control of our selves. Unless we deliberately nurture other mental abilities, we remain locked in rational thought. Even when we face no immediate dilemma, we fail to revert to the wise and ancient modes that served our animal ancestors for eons. We persist in judging and predicting even when there is little need. Many of us get trapped in obsessions, overwhelmed by anxiety, or crushed by regret. When these conditions become chronic, we start diagnosing mental illness. Although it sometimes destroys us, we cannot easily turn off what ACT calls the ‘thought machine’.

When a person quiets the ceaseless patter of thought, and experiences a bit of silent presence, peace arises. As older and wiser parts of the mind come to the fore, problems seem less complicated and less pressing. With practice, one can combine mindfulness with acceptance, and begin to align with the mind’s nonrational forces. During the past year an ACT therapist helped me make progress in those directions. But by itself this failed to displace my ego from its throne; although life became a bit easier, my judgments remained rapid and harsh. At best I enjoyed a few seconds of serenity, before the machine of criticism stormed back into control. For some people, exercises in meditation, tolerance, and value-seeking will suffice to attain lasting peace of mind. But for me, with my habit of pessimism and negativity, something more was required.

Enter spirituality. Whereas Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT) teaches how to think less negatively, and ACT persuades the judging mind to relax its grip, religion works by appealing to deeper regions of the brain. By helping us feel the presence of forces larger than humanity, they give the older parts of the mind enough strength to reassert their rightful place in the human psyche. In the West, this has been accomplished by appeal to a unified God. In the East, there has been more emphasis on awakening the heart to the vast scale and depth of creation. The spiritual awakening alluded to in the last post arose from a more Eastern than Western way of seeing things. Regardless of its philosophical heritage, the awakening of my deeper spirit has forced my ego to share the stage. Although the cloud of depression remains, it no longer colors my entire world view. I can feel the low moods percolating, and yet remain open to the beauty of life. The improvement results from a newfound ability to see my ego’s judging stance from a broader perspective. I understand there are other ways of understanding the world, and that I can live without weighing and evaluating everything. An atmosphere of equality has replaced the scales of judgment.

Whatever works. Some will rationally understand the value of escaping the ego’s web, and with that knowledge, break free. Others require an omnipotent deity to shake them loose. Still others will find release by meditating on the subterannean connections between the mind and the cosmos. Using the term loosely, all represent forms of spirituality, in that they release the human spirit from the prison of the human mind.

Escaping the Ego’s Web was published on January 24th, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

A Truth Beyond Words

SacredEgg

‘Spiritual’ experiences span a range of possibilities. The chirping birds and fertile scents of a rain-soaked meadow can transform the receptive person. Such scenes fill the mind with a soft awareness of nature’s magic, bringing one to a grace that lies at the subtle end of the spectrum. At the other end lies the ego-shattering breakthrough, where God’s immanence saturates the heart and mind, until one nearly weeps from feelings of unity with creation. A week ago my soul was blessed with an opening to transcendence somewhere in the middle. After reverently taking leave of my companions, I entered a grove of old-growth redwoods for a five-hour solitary ‘Spirit Walk’. The trees are so wide and tall that it becomes easy to recognize one’s smallness in the face of creation. The first branches don’t jut from the trunks until a hundred feet or so above the cathedral-like spaces that underlie the canopy. The ground is wet from the ceaseless dripping of the boughs above, and it is soft to the step, with inches of decomposing vegetation underfoot. For one hour, I meditated beneath a tree that was probably close to two thousand years old, and as wide as a typical bedroom.

For at least twenty years I’ve pondered how to reconcile my knowledge of biology and physics with my sense of spiritual presence on earth. While sitting beneath that tree, my tentative answers coalesced into a heartbreaking awareness of Truth. On a very deep level, I perceived the evanescence and formlessness of the human mind, the interplay between humans and nature, and how everything intertwines in the awesome depths of creation. The way the human spirit dwells amidst vast spreads of time, space, and scale became clear to me in ways that surpass words. After my meditation, I walked for miles through the woods, while deeper and deeper layers of creation seemed to open to my understanding. In future months I will make the effort to articulate the realizations that blossomed that day, though in short form they were essentially Taoist in character. But at the time words were superfluous; a pervasive and convinced knowing filled me: heart, body, mind, and soul.

In the week since, I’ve held off writing anything specific about my experience. I’ve toyed with peripheral insights. Some I’ve already posted, and some will be placed on the blog in future weeks. All are vital to my growth, and convincing in light of my new understanding, so they need to be addressed. But the heart of the matter is so profound I am allowing it to mature. I want to avoid the ecstatic and grandiose writing that has sometimes found its way onto this site after my moments of inspiration. This experience was so profound and meaningful that it requires gentle treatment, like a fragile and sacred egg. It brought me to what seems like a broad and penetrating understanding of the human condition, and our relationship to nature. The scope of this new perspective crushes into triviality many of my prior concerns, including my imperative to rationally justify the existence of a ‘universal consciousness’. My plan of using linear thought to support faith now looks hopelessly naive. Although the intense mental effort that preceded this breakthrough probably opened the door, I now see that logic is not a reliable path to transcendence. The gates only open easily for those who surrender, abandon ego, and awaken to wonder.

In truth, the answers are as simple as they are profound. But even now I am skirting the core of the matter. I am warming up to writing about the week that started me on a new life, and I want to go slowly. I want to be sure my words are as free of ‘self’ as possible. The truths are universal. I did not earn them, and I do not want to despoil them by taking any credit, or by getting inflated with grandiosity. I have never felt so drawn to write about anything, or so cautious.

A Truth Beyond Words was published on January 23rd, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 6 comments on this article so far.