WillSpirit!

Where Will meets Spirit
∞ Love, Clarity, Balance, Peace, & Bliss ∞

A science, mental health and spirituality blog written by a physician.








  • Red_Exclamation_DotDisclaimer
    • 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.


The Points of Life


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

I love to live though often it’s not fun,
And enjoy my loves despite their ending pain.
I love to race though seldom have I won,
And rush to work though little have I gained.

I earn my keep but not to buy and spend.
I eat my meals though hunger comes again.
I will embrace though loving always ends.
I will breathe out so I can breathe back in.

Our days aren’t meant for us but to enjoy,
And living well means more than peace and ease.
Life bestows its sorrow, hurt and toil.
And death we share with thousand-year-old trees.

Life’s a hellish heaven, experienced and lived
To leaf and flower, fruit, decline and give.

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God’s Evolution


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

Sometime and somewhere
The apes began to speak

Objects became words
Words became concepts

Until concepts
Claimed truth
And myths began
To make sense of objects
To build stories out of words

Until concepts crowned themselves
As facts
As gods
And the gods waged war

But before the apes spoke
Nothing was true or false
There were no gods
There were only objects
And a living spirit

Life was ever aware
Long before apes thought about it

And objects displayed evolution
Long before there was a word for it

Back then
God was not a concept
God was not an ape
God was not a deity
Or a judge
Or a divider of tribes

God, if you can call it that,
Simply was
Awareness
Love
And Unity
Evolving through time

Expressing itself
First through living objects
Then through talking apes

Until now
We are charged to abandon
The concepts we have built
And find the Truth that speaks
As life itself.

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The Palm of God


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

The fingerprints of God
Stretch across the sky
Cirrus clouds streaming overhead
Wrapping the world in their grasp
Upholding the earth under the eye of sun
Caressing the pain of creation
The ache that changes
Into ecstasy the moment we are willing
To swallow life as it is
To embrace God as it is
Distant and near
Dispassionate and dear
Unmoved and weeping at once
There is laughter in the air
And infant smiles and coyote yips at the moon
And there is blood and fracture and torment
These are the marks of God
The stripes of red, black, fawn, and green
The baby skin ripped by fangs
The intimate copulation, every moist embrace
The steaming corruption, the putrescence of decay
The flower petal bejeweled by dew
God leaves its impression on everything
And our only choice in writhing under it
Is to know our life as orgasm or agony
To recognize beauty or not
To feel love or emptiness
In the heated summer morning or the chill winter night
The clouds hover above
Watching, caring, and vanishing.

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Predictable?


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

The movie
The Terminator ends
With a storm
Warning. Linda Hamilton heads to Mexico,
Belly swollen with humanity’s child,
Wearing her jaunty rose bandana, driving a Jeep.
Rolling across the border to
What? Safety?

She is trying to escape the onslaught of technology.

We know refuge is unlikely.
She could drive to Antarctica, trying to outwit
The inevitable menace
But it will find her.
She could walk on the moon, but destiny will catch up.
There is no breaking free:
Not from earth,
Not from fate,
And certainly not from the hammer of tomorrow.

So why waste time studying meteorology?
The weather comes.
It rains, blows, crashes, and destroys.
Some live, others die.
A fully predictable story,
And equally it is
Perfection, though perhaps
Seen a bit darkly,
Across a dust-blown field,
And from a fixed vantage of worry.

Will machines destroy us in the end?
Might be a safe bet.
But we are not yet destroyed.
We are still watching.
The cyclone approaches, but we live
To witness the future
However much it wrecks us.

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Mirror, Mirror


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

What good are mirrors?
When they reflect but surface,
Depth remains obscured.

Search the inner self:
The listening heart within,
The creature that feels.

Looking glass to soul:
Misdeeds and heroism
Shine out together.

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A Poetic Journey


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

At first,
A poem lurks in the mind’s shadowy back streets
Where dream symbols line the alleys like graffiti tags,
And fantasies lie about like crazed cobblestones underfoot.
Where art is the only unbroken stone.

It wears a cloak of memories as dark as compost
And a necklace of fossils, a string
Of vertebrae picked from the skeletons
Of frantic prehistoric birds that crash-landed,
And became swallowed by sediment black with regret.

The poem,
That bent and crafty shaman,
Leaves its footprints
On the hardening pavement that covers our soul.

Its lyrics ripen and rot,
Like damp leaf litter.
Their warmth penetrating the hermetic chamber of the buried self.

The words leech out the decomposing forms of our lost childhood.
Recalling our betrayed freedom.
Restoring our failed beauty.

The poem nurses its mystery and seed.

Under every stanza, under every assonance and rhyme,
The subliminal strata of memory whisper their lies,
And ancient confusions repeat themselves in hieroglyphs
Carved along the worn corridors of our detours and destinies.

Even so,
The words gather strength in tangled masses
Crowding their funereal lair
Taking on the shapes of Egyptian scrolls and
Cadaveric organs in canopic jars.

And then a resurrection…

The varicose lines straighten
And the poem begins to blossom.
Its organic and crystalline filigrees
Grow out an unselfconscious flower.

And our blank, honest face finally emerges
From its lazy hibernation in the egg of bone.

The poem now walks upright,
Its wide yellow path smoothing a way over rough ground
Guarded and shadowed by the mossy trunks of primordial oaks.

At first it hesitates, dormant and shaded,
But then it gains the courage to dismantle our armaments,
To exit our battlements and spread into the open countryside.

It strolls forth to plant its tiny, potent kernels
In the gentle and willing loam of our larger and happier dream.

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We ARE All This


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

The problem
Behind every problem
That plagues our humanity
Is our common sense
Of ourselves as solid and important,
Separate and special,
Whether as individuals, religions, nations, races,
Or a species.
We are NOT.
We are NOT separate from what we see.
We are NOT better than beetles,
Or smarter than snakes,
Or nobler than nuts,
Because we ARE beetles, snakes, and nuts.
Even as we think these thoughts as selves,
We ARE life in all its sacred and ordinary glory.
The web of ecology doesn’t surround us,
It is what we ARE as individuals, races, and species.
So terrifying to watch a loved one make bad choices
And self-destruct.
So much worse to watch humanity
Cut off an arm to mine coal from a mountain,
Or rip off its skin to raise cattle in the tropics,
Or incinerate its members to protect oil in the desert,
Or taint its blood and oceans with poisons.
The problem
Isn’t that we make bad decisions about how to manage the world.
It’s that we think there’s a separate world to manage.
We ARE the world of life. We ARE.

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Wherein an Adept Gets Snared by the Ego’s Sticky Tongue


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

THE WOE OF TOAD

After tremendous effort,
And years of practice,
I achieved transcendence.

I arose from the turbid swamp of unconscious life,
Stagnant and eutrophic,
To a meadow tessellated by wildflowers
And brush-stroked with illumination
And sunshine.

With fierce concentration
I meditated on my malformations
Until my shadowy tail shrank,
And legs appeared,
Folded in permanent yogic posture.

Enlightenment became my lifestyle.

My gills closed,
Protecting me from external perturbation.
Eyelids grew to seal in contemplation.
And I began, miraculously, to breath.
At last I could count my respirations
Straight into satori.
Now every day I croak my mantra,
Mindful and awake.

But it’s not enough.
Every princess tells me so
As she wetly osculates my warty head.
Each one insists
I’m ripe for another transition.
It doesn’t suffice to have risen out of darkness,
To have broken free into clarity and light.
I must again reshape my being,
Undergo dermabrasion,
And hire a voice coach.

It makes me wish I’d been born a monarch.
My metamorphosis
Would have been so much more impressive:
My wormlike form ensconced
In a sarcophagus of my own creation;
My body melting and reforming with mysterious grace;
My weightless and delicate wings
Unfolding in the golden afternoon,
Iridescent in the late day sun;
My saltatory flight into the autumn sky
Carrying me on an epic migration
To the lively beaches of Mexico.

But my karma shaped me into this:
A squat form hunkering on a narrow path;
Cursed by kisses;
Fodder for slobber;
Victimized by starstruck lasses
And their insatiable dreams.

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Inner Space


December is poetry month here at WillSpirit. Please forgive the digression as I take a needed break from essay writing. Just scroll back to November to get to the real substance.

Look within:
At the brain under the scalp,
Beneath the cortex and its curves
To the neuronal web and its promiscuous love of talk,
Deeper:
To the jungle of membranes, receptors, and microtubules,
Deeper still:
To the strands of amino acids, sugars, nucleotides.
Go further:
To the carbon and oxygen, all the shimmering atoms.
Keep going:
To the electrons, protons, and neutrons,
To the fermions and bosons but
Don’t stop.
Keep going to see what’s next.
What’s next?
Strings? Quantized vacuum? Zero point?
Down here everything is possibility.
Nothing is solid, nothing determined.
With every fractionated picosecond myriad roads diverge,
And each of these trails gets travelled.
Reality, if we can call it that,
Headed in all directions at once.
In such a casino of creation
How does the future get chosen?
What does the choosing?
Does it matter?
Some things to think about
As we drink our coffee in the solid world.

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My Beginner’s Mind

This entry is my twenty-fourth in November. With its publication, there will be precisely three hundred essays on the blog queue. With that many posts available, I feel comfortable planning a break in my blogging. For the month of December, if anything gets published at all, it will be poetry. My plan is to start penning essays again next year. I wish all my WillSpirit friends a Happy Holiday Season.

My final essay for 2011 offers concrete suggestions for quelling emotional distress. Many readers know more about mental healing than I do, so what follows may sound elementary. But some visitors are just starting out, and these suggestions can guide their initial steps. Besides, even advanced meditators don’t consider themselves experts, but strive to maintain the Beginner’s Mind. So one is never too experienced to practice the basics. What follows maps not just what I did when first embarking on recovery; it sketches how I continue to approach my life.

My most uplifted posts have sung the praises of meditation and right attitude. With the aid of such skills, my mental life has improved so dramatically that I now question the many diagnoses that were tossed my direction by doctors. Decisive recovery from longstanding problems shows the capacity of the mind to rework itself; resolution of symptoms also seriously challenges the “brain disease” hypothesis of mood disorders. There was plenty of cognitive detritus obstructing my path, but I doubt there was ever any organic problem in my synapses. By clearing out misconceptions and misperceptions, I found clarity and readiness to accept whatever happens in life. I am not immune to grief and disappointment, but I believe myself resistant to despair. Meditation succeeded where medication failed.

To see how dramatically I’ve improved, consider that my mother committed suicide when I was in the first grade. By late adolescence it seemed obvious to me that my own life would end the same way. It was merely a question of timing. How long would I put up with my awful heartache before deciding, in the words of Hamlet, “to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them?”

Despite years of thinking along those lines, my mind no longer attacks itself. By studying the errors in my perceptions and beliefs, by learning to not mistake feelings for reality or thoughts for truth, I have found freedom from such negativity. It now seems inconceivable that any emotion or circumstance could drive me to end my life.

This all sounds promising, I hope. It should offer reassurance to those who wonder if they could ever wake up from the nightmare of chronic severe depression. It can be done, I promise.

But how? If one is stuck in the depths of misery, the idea of meditating out of it probably sounds like an impossible dream. And early on observing the mind may actually increase awareness of emotional pain and cognitive obsession, which can seem like exactly the wrong result. The trick, in my opinion, is to start out with very small goals.

Don’t begin by signing up for a ten-day meditation retreat. Don’t even plan on sitting on a cushion for an hour. Rather, the next time you’re stuck in a waiting room or standing in line, pay attention to how you feel. Explore your sensations. Can you detect your heartbeat? Where do you find pain? Are you breathing or holding your breath? Get in the habit of checking in for a minute or two whenever there’s a lull in the action.

When you feel ready for more, adopt the same practice as you fall asleep. Take a brief break from reviewing and planning to feel your bodily sensations. Indulge in some slow, deep breaths. See how long you can focus on your body before your thoughts start churning again. Early on, you’ll be doing well if you can remain attentive for fifteen seconds. Be proud if you can achieve that.

Over time, you will extend your range. Maybe you will gaze inwardly a bit longer. Maybe you will catch an obsession and halt it. Every time you succeed, recognize your ability to steer your mental state, even if only briefly. The goal is to gain mastery over your mind, but this process takes years and is never completed, except by Buddhas. At first, consider yourself a champion if you can subdue a destructive thought long enough to choose a healthier one. As you gain skill, you’ll begin to desire more time for meditation. That’s when you should consider a retreat.

But don’t expect too much too soon. If at first you find it too painful to watch and feel, steer your mind toward pleasant memories or daydreams. This isn’t meditation as we usually define it, but it does involve guiding thoughts, so it can be very helpful. Such practice provides welcome breaks from inner misery. If you feel ambitious, you can use it to build up empowering visualizations. Paint a mental picture of yourself mastering a valued skill, or being generous to others, or feeling well and happy.

From just these brief suggestions, you can see there exist many ways to train the mind, and it can be fun experimenting with different methods. Check books out of the library, search for videos on the internet, or go to local gatherings (which often ask only for voluntary donations). If you have a religious faith, and if you feel comfortable in it, then it is a good idea to get more involved with whatever meditative or prayerful activities it offers.

I like to divide mental training into two explorations, though more knowledgeable students recognize many more categories. But for simplicity’s sake, just consider these two paths:

  1. A person can meditate to explore the ocean of consciousness by being mindful of the body, by observing thoughts, by focusing on feelings, by quieting mental activity, and so on.
  2. Alternatively, one can meditate to connect with cosmic love by centering on the warmth that emanates from the heart, by repeating sacred mantras, through visualizations, by attending spiritual rituals, etc.

I believe it is important for people who feel depressed to do both. Exploring the mind helps one learn to steer thoughts and not act on feelings. Nurturing love in the heart warms the inner child who feels lonely and unwanted. One does not need to believe in a Divine Being to find such comfort; just awakening to the affection that arises when holding beloved pets or watching children can accomplish the same end. But, of course, belief in a loving cosmic presence is a great way to find support if your philosophical prejudices will allow it.

Keep in mind as you work on meditating that other healthful activities remain vital. Exercise, good nutrition, socialization, creative arts, and compassionate acts all help improve mood and outlook. These days we can choose from a wide array of therapies and somatic practices that aid mental healing. Pursue as many avenues as you can to help yourself improve. Applaud yourself for every victory, but also treat yourself with tenderness. When you feel too depleted to do much of anything, accept your need for contraction and isolation. Compliment yourself for sitting up in bed, if that’s all you can manage. Eventually, when your energy improves, you can do more.

At all times, be aware that the aim is incremental improvement, not sudden sainthood. As they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, “seek progress, not perfection.”

Good luck on your journey. My prayers are with you.

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