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.


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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My Beginner’s Mind was published on November 28th, 2011 .






Blogging By Desire

Every once in a while I hate blogging. Why? Because it fails to satisfy my desires. (So yes, I’m still on the topic that’s consumed the past several posts.)

Usually my disillusionment with blogs happens when the work seems to go nowhere. If there are neither comments nor emails, or if the visitation drops, it can feel like I’m writing into a void. The project fails to satisfy my yearning for service, connection, and (let’s face it) recognition.

On the other hand, when the site garners responses, and especially if readers seem appreciative, blogging strikes me as a rewarding endeavor. Satisfaction elevates my mood; my self-esteem rises.

Wherein lies the problem. My mental state varies according to factors I can’t control. The best way to attract comments is to provoke controversy, but this tactic is hard for me because I generally like to write in a way that doesn’t offend. And even when I try to evoke some disagreement, my efforts often fall flat. Sometimes blogging meets my expectations and sometimes not, and nothing I do can guarantee success. It’s easy to believe I’d be better off not wanting anything in return for writing.

So it seems to me that not desiring is the safest path, but of course things aren’t so simple.

I didn’t expect desire to a controversial topic, since my treatment of it was not different from what I hear regularly at Buddhist and Hindu meditation events. But this is a case where what sounds perfectly reasonable in some contexts can sound perplexing in others. Without the common agreement that one finds in a group of people attending a spiritual gathering, the idea that desire is bad sounds troubling.

And I see why. Yearning seems to underlie much of what’s good in life, from chocolate to social progress. Thinking back to my early days in Buddhist centers, I remember the philosophy first struck me as dry and life-denying. (And keep in mind I still don’t consider myself Buddhist, though I’m quite accustomed to the language by now.) After all, I’m a biologist at heart, and I admire the teeming, expansive, hungry, fertile, and beautiful qualities of life. The idea of remaining detached from the panoply of organic urges and turmoil struck me as escapist, if not Puritanical.

Obviously, I see Eastern “non-attachment” in a more nuanced light these days. But that has taken time and practice. It has required me to recognize how many of my hungers do, in fact, ultimately lead to frustration. Even so, I remain captivated by life as it is lived across the biosphere, not just by the human slice of it. For most biological forms, urges ensure survival.

However we, as intelligent apes enjoying abundance (obviously, a large portion of humanity is not so fortunate, and lives near starvation–but I doubt many suffering such privation are reading my blog), need to ask ourselves if perhaps our desires are propelling us so far beyond mere survival that our existence is now threatened by the very yearnings that once assured it. Are we not sublimating the hungers that once kept us alive into impulses less useful and more destructive? Aren’t animal forces that were once essential now inviting catastrophe? This would seem a strong argument for reigning in desire.

But then there is the question of higher motives. A number of commentators point out that there can be spiritually inspired desires, and I don’t disagree. Who could deny that there can be yearnings that aren’t base? But even (or especially) such higher causes can get frustrated, and for that reason may lead to suffering. As I’ve tried to make clear, the objection to desire isn’t a value judgment, it’s a viewpoint that derives from observation of effects. To desire often means to feel disappointed.

Does that mean that all desire should be avoided? No, I don’t want to insist on that. Going further, is it necessary for all suffering to be avoided? I would say not. Suffering can be beneficial. Look how often it leads to growth. As is always the case, the situation is complicated.

So here’s another reason for discomfort with blogging. This time not because it feels pointless, but because it seems incapable of capturing deep truth. In a short blog post, or even a series of posts, important points inevitably get left out or glossed over. An entire book (or dissertation) could be written about subjects I try to cover in brief essays. The desire to do a topic justice was one of the reasons I recently considered writing a book. A blog is not sufficient to the task.

I like hearing from my readers, so the fact my treatment of complex subjects is inadequate turns out to be positive. My failure prompts others to correct my understanding, which helps me sculpt my views to be more comprehensive and less dogmatic. But I still feel like the blog is failing to convey the deep peace that comes from efforts to reject desire, and to completely accept life despite its chaotic failure to satisfy yearnings. It’s frustrating to write about something that feels true and helpful, only to realize that my words are inadequate.

In addition to blogging failing to garner the attention I crave, and failing to convey the truths I hold dear, there is yet another reason it frustrates me sometimes.

For all my recent talk about the value of rejecting desire, today I’m feeling a lot of it: I wish for more happiness and less dreariness. This time of year is hard on me as we in the Northern Hemisphere enter the short, cold days of winter. I yearn to feel better, to smile more easily, to walk outside and feel the sultry passion of summer.

So despite my elevated take on desire, right now I feel trapped by it. And once again blogging feels wrong. On this website I often write about how much life has taught me, and how clarity has graced me, but I still end up in occasional funks. When that happens I wonder if all this writing is not mere fraud. Yes, at times the world feels glorious even in the midst of heartache and loneliness, which is when I feel most moved to post essays. Other times, the glory seems unreachable, and I am left with the ordinary blues. More often that not, during those times I remain silent.

So even with a project as mundane as penning an obscure blog, desire causes problems. Desire for connection. Desire to feel helpful. Desire to be acknowledged. Desire to be understood. Desire to be authentic. All these yearnings, all these openings to disappointment and, yes, suffering.

But like I said above, suffering is not always a bad thing. And so perhaps, neither is desire. The secret may lie in observing the process of both yearning and frustration, and identifying with that part of the Self that stands outside and smiles at the amusing uproar of it all.

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Blogging By Desire was published on November 6th, 2011 . 2 comments






Competition is Poison

Did you notice this post isn’t introduced as part of a book? After only four entries written with the intent of serializing a ‘Trail Guide’ to mental wellness, I’m giving up, at least for now. Seems like the right decision, especially since there’s been no detectable reader enthusiasm about the essays written so far.

Fact is, I like blogging freely and organically. Trying to force my posts to follow a sequence, to grow into a book, feels unnatural.

Plus, I’ve been reading some popular texts more or less in my genera. (My bookstore category can’t be defined precisely, since I delve equally into memoir, self-help, and spirituality.) Honest appraisal of those works reveals the painful truth that they are written with more zest and clarity than I can muster. Although commentary on this site reassures me that a few people like my essays, I’m doubtful of my writing’s commercial potential.

Most importantly, I realize that my desire to publish a book stemmed from habits of ego rather than leanings of heart. Consider that I announced the project by bemoaning how a local college failed to take me seriously. I’ve been down the competitive road too many times to not recognize when my motivation comes from a hunger to prove myself rather than a yearning to contribute.

These realizations prompt my return to the old mode of writing whatever seems relevant at the moment. It will be nice to be spontaneous again and forget about structuring a manuscript.

As a sort of compromise, and rather than starting a whole new work from scratch, I’m thinking of organizing my 270 previous WillSpirit posts so that people can more easily find essays relevant to their needs. This might be a more useful service than adding to the world’s inventory of barely read books.

Recently I rediscovered some opinion pieces of mine written in the mid-eighties. As the editor of UC San Francisco’s student newspaper (Synapse), I enjoyed a forum similar to a blog. In my column I mouthed off about problems on campus. In one essay I objected to the cutthroat competition rampant among classmates. I didn’t present myself as standing nobly outside the fray, but fully acknowledged my own drive to rise above others.

Yet although I strove as competitively as anyone, I also felt worn out by the toxicity of trying to look superior to those around me.

What makes one person ‘better’ than another? In narrow terms we might look at accomplishment (e.g., an acclaimed book), status, wealth, or fame. But the truly worthwhile person is not identified by these measures. A school crossing guard who takes care of her young charges while making them smile is more valuable to society than the arrogant executive. An impoverished volunteer in a soup kitchen improves the world more than a billionaire stockholder. An unknown primary care physician in the inner city helps more people than the dean of a medical school.

These truths appeared clear to me back when my clinical career was still rocketing skyward, long before I’d felt the sting of failure, but I wasn’t able to internalize them. Back then, achievement seemed more vital than sanity. It’s different viewing this wisdom from the standpoint of obscurity, low expectations, and late midlife. Remembering the corrosiveness of competition from this perspective brings me comfort rather than conflict.

Perhaps I should simply embrace my role as an obscure blogger, and quit worrying about ‘making it.’ Maybe it’s time to finally accept the insight of that young medical student who understood that egotism kills the soul, even though he wasn’t confident enough to quit competing. All these years later, I at last feel ready to drop the burden of ego and validate truly meaningful forms of personal success.

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Competition is Poison was published on October 29th, 2011 . 4 comments






Publish or Perish

Can you be a somebody if you haven’t written a book?

Sadly, a blog is not a serious project. At least, an obscure blog doesn’t count for much in the professional world. Even an unsuccessful book, on the other hand, seems to carry a bit of weight. The difference may relate to how easy it is to blog and how hard it is to produce a book. A site like this, for instance, runs essays that are little more than rough drafts worked out on the fly. I don’t outline the sequence of posts in advance. There is no obvious progression over time except for the inevitable growth in understanding that comes to every person who looks inside and tries to improve. It’s an ad hoc project, made up of hodge podge of topics covered with varying skill. A book would require organization, commitment, and (let’s face it) editing.

Why bring this up? Well, partly because of how it stung when the local college turned down my proposal for a community education course on integrative approaches to mental health. I worked hard on that submission, and it appeared pretty solid to me by the end. There was a clearcut focus, a series of relevant and interesting lecture topics, and subject matter that gets increasing attention in the psychotherapy world. Given the large number of therapists in this region, and the huge local interest in personal growth, it seemed likely that the college would be interested in letting me run the class. Wrong.

Possibly, if I’d written a book about the subject the proposal might have been accepted. Although an MD is generally considered a solid credential, without training in psychiatry or at least graduate work in psychology, I lack the sort of background that colleges look for in evaluating mental health instructors. A couple of websites and an acupuncture practice don’t count. But academic institutions honor publication, and a book might have helped in this situation.

Fact is, I’ve been considering writing a book for some time. Indeed, there are several books I’d like to write.

At present I’m focusing most of my energy on my acupuncture business. Every once in a while I feel driven to write a series of essays for this or other blogs, but usually it seems like there’s no time. So how could I ever finish a book?

Admittedly, it will be hard. One possibility is to convert this blog into a book project. I could start at the introduction and put it out gradually, in serial form. Later I could pull it all together, aggressively edit the manuscript, and see about publication. Unlikely, you think? Well, it could happen.

So don’t be surprised if something more organized and directed starts forming here. But also be ready for business as usual. I’m just musing about options.

Only one thing is certain: I have more and more to say, and ordinary blogging is feeling less and less like the best venue for my expressions.

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Publish or Perish was published on October 18th, 2011 . 4 comments






Happy Anniversary, WS!

Well, this is the second anniversary of the launching of WillSpirit (my blog’s title didn’t sport an exclamation point until this year). It’s odd, looking back, to realize how clueless I was starting out. I had little clarity about my direction or subject matter, but high hopes for success. Or at least that’s how I remember it.

But upon reviewing my first post (an excerpt is quoted below), what strikes me is how my ideas at the start were not that different from my ideas now.

Naturally, I’m more seasoned. Hopefully, I’ve matured a little as a writer. And of course I’m much more realistic about what blogging can and can’t do for a person or a career.

But it surprises me to read that my very first post announces: “I don’t think anyone has perfect mental health.” Plus, it cites the body as an important participant in mental wellness. These pronouncements sound very similar to the sorts of statements I’ve been making lately. Not to mention that a year after starting the blog, I trained as a physician acupuncturist in order to offer somatic treatments in support of mental health. The more I change, apparently, the more I stay the same.

True, today I’d be less likely to emphasize biology as the main determinant of our essential nature, and much more inclined to acknowledge an equal contribution of divinity or Consciousness (with a capital ‘C’). But this seems like a quantitative shift, not a qualitative one.

Anyway, I’m posting this little tribute to the past as a way of thanking my readership. It’s been small but supportive all along. Recently, after I started speaking forcefully about the toxicity of the conventional mental health system, WillSpirit! enjoyed a big jump in the number of visitors. But the people who comment, at least, remain as gentle and sagacious as ever. And that has been the true value of blogging: it’s connected me with others who value compassion, growth, and wisdom. Thank you. Thank you.

I’M STARTING BLOG #184,876,598 ON THE INTERNET!

Just kidding. I don’t know what number blog this is, though I imagine I’m within a hundred million or so of being correct. Which means I doubt you are even reading this. If you are, in fact, an actual person reading my actual first post, then you deserve my eternal gratitude. Thank you. Thank you.

I am working out what this blog will be about, but I see three main subjects as likely to come up. They are related, at least in my mind:

1.   God, or something like it.

2.   Biology, as our essential nature (though refer to ’1′ above for a possible add-on to our biology).

3.   Mental health, which I interpret broadly. I don’t think anyone has perfect mental health. It is a question of working toward improvement. In my mind, mental health includes emotional, spiritual, intellectual, and even somatic health. Only with all these components in harmony, more or less, can we be said to be in a state of true mental health…

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Happy Anniversary, WS! was published on May 30th, 2011 . 5 comments






Contentment in the Round

In seeking satisfaction, it helps to explore a broad spectrum of human potential. To use Ken Wilber’s language, we can look at multiple “lines of development,” such as material security, emotional bonding, and spiritual realization. Our relationship to each of these important currents in life grows through relatively definable stages. For instance, our attitude toward material acquisition might start with concern about our own sensual pleasure, then extend to wanting to provide for our family, and then mature to a calling to do our part to help a world in need. Similar stages can be mapped for emotional and spiritual growth.

In the last post, I repeated one of my favorite Daoist quotes: “He who knows he has enough is rich.” It’s impossible to say exactly how Lao Tse meant this (especially since some authorities think he was a mythical sage, so we can’t even be sure who created the aphorism), but we can apply it in all three spheres defined above, and others as well. It’s clear how the saying helps as we evaluate our material situation, but let’s consider how it might fit with emotional and spiritual life.

We know interpersonal attachments are often as necessary to human happiness as food, clothing, and shelter. But how many relationships are enough? We see a wide range in society: from loners, to couples who rarely socialize with others, to sensitive souls with a few close friends, to bighearted people with many loved ones, to the highly gregarious who have huge numbers of acquaintances but few deep relationships. In each of these cases a person might or might not be satisfied, depending on their personality and their attitude.

As always, I can express this most clearly with a personal anecdote. In the past I criticized myself because of my very small social circle. Although I’d try to excuse myself by remembering how much abuse and neglect I suffered in childhood, there was no escaping the reality that I tend to isolate. Innately shy and highly sensitive, I’ve usually found it easy to build lasting romantic attachments, but hard to form friends outside that intimate bond. I’ve been with my wife for twenty years, which I count as an accomplishment, but until recently I enjoyed few other friendships. When you consider that we both come from very small families, that our parents have died, and that we have no children, nieces, or nephews, you can begin to see why I felt like a social failure. As I entered my fifties and contemplated old age, I began to fear ending up elderly and all alone. I envied my acquaintances who’d had children and now enjoy the satisfaction of watching their offspring blossom into adults. It was easy to imagine them in the future as happy grandparents, and myself as an isolated ancient.

A few things helped rescue me from this neurosis. A first step was a bit of reality testing: I began to see how having children in this society is no guarantee against loneliness and struggle in old age. It was even more helpful to recognize that my ability to endure (and even benefit from) hardship and loneliness is much greater than I once believed. Many times in recent years I’ve settled into deep sadness without panicking, whereas in the past I’d have run to a psychiatrist for an antidepressant. I’ve found a kind of melancholy serenity during those times. Even if my ‘golden years’ are spent in isolation, there’s a chance I’ll embrace the same soulful peace that helps me through the dark epochs now.

So I’ve changed my assessment of my social circle. It may be small, but it feels like enough, at least for now. I no longer feel desperate for more connections. As a result of my increased confidence, I’m finding that it’s now easier to make friends. Ironically, once I felt contented with my tiny social circle, it began to grow. If recognizing that I had enough social contact to survive made me rich, then I also learned that the rich get richer. We often encounter this lesson first in the romantic sphere: nothing is more unappealing than a desperate date, and nothing more alluring than a warm, serene, confident one. But the principle generalizes to all social interaction. If we approach others with a sense of contentment, we’re better liked than if we exude neurosis.

Before closing, I’ll briefly bring this reasoning into the arena of spiritual development. Until I began my quest for metaphysical clarity twenty-four years ago, growth in this area meant nothing to me. But once I started to reap the benefits of a few awakened moments, I wanted more. As I further matured, so that even in ordinary life it became possible for me to connect with the calm, light center of my heart, I found myself wishing the connection were more robust and continuous. Growth was happening, but because the very process of opening highlighted how much of me remained closed, it was tempting to feel discouraged. Then, fortunately, I recognized that humans seldom complete the task of cosmic realization. At every stage short of eternal transcendence, there is opportunity for further maturation. Once I understood the spiritual path to be endless, I felt satisfied with my current level of development. It’s important to emphasize that I still want to awaken further, but I don’t need more attainment to be comfortable. I’ve found enough peace to feel contented.

Which brings me back to where I ended last time: contentment is about appreciating where we are right now. It does not mean abandoning plans for further progress. Live brightly today, but build an even better tomorrow.

In their comments, readers noted that my last post focused mostly on material and career development. The fact that I treated those realms first is probably a consequence of my history as a (previously) overachieving American male. But even as I penned the last essay it was clear to me that much of importance was being left out. Such is the nature of blogging: you can’t cover everything in a single entry. I hope today’s post has succeeded in expanding the discussion into areas arguably more important than career and physical comfort.

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Contentment in the Round was published on April 27th, 2011 .






Further Thoughts on Growth

Upsetting readers is a good way to garner comments, which always look good on a blog. Even so, I usually try to avoid riling my audience. Admittedly, I’ve been known to make statements likely to be disputed by militant atheists, but in doing so my intent is to respectfully challenge fixed viewpoints, not to insult or anger. So at first it surprised me that a recent post stirred up such strong feelings, both on WillSpirit! and GuidePosts to Happiness. But looking back at what I wrote, and remembering my own evolution toward acceptance, it seems clear to me that the outcry could have been predicted, and possibly avoided.

Not that long ago I attended a weekend retreat at a local Buddhist meditation center. The topic was trauma, and how we adapt to it. The facilitator insisted that we attach to our ‘stories’ and by doing so perpetuate whatever pain we suffered in the past. I took exception to her statement, because it seemed to me that coping with the after-effects of vicious child abuse counts as more than mere storytelling. The way my stepmother mistreated me as a young boy was highly traumatic, terrifying, and damaging. It offended me to hear devastating childhood events discounted as a mere ‘stories.’

These days I see my past in a different light, but back then I’d have reacted similarly if anyone had tried to tell me that my hardships should be considered growth opportunities.

So I apologize for those who are suffering with bereavements and pain that seem too awful to be of any benefit. I truly understand how much life can wound a person, and how such grief can overwhelm all optimism.

But allow me to gently continue by pointing out that grief is usually time-limited. As much as it agonizes, it generally fades. The deceased loved one, or the lost career, or the damaged health will always be missed, but the acute pain lessens. In the end, even the most painful experiences can fade into the past, and the mind can recover. What’s more, humans often construct meaning out of trauma.

Different cultures do this differently. In some Muslim traditions, hardship is seen as a chance to demonstrate strength of character to God. In western countries, with their Christian roots, we encounter the notion that ordeals edify the soul. My observation that hardship can help us grow derives from this tradition. But whether one looks for growth, or grace, or some other redeeming quality, it is natural and healthy to process disaster and shape it into something tolerable.

I understand that grief sometimes fails to resolve or become tolerable. Fortunately, such cases are relatively rare. Most often, the heart recovers. Much of the time, it grows.

I would never intentionally minimize the emotional burden of hardship. But it is nevertheless the case that by finding meaning in our trials, by trying to learn from them, we can sometimes lessen and shorten our suffering.

Some will not be ready to hear this, and I respect that. But others will be receptive to the hopeful message: even awful events can be seen, eventually, in a balanced light. The tragic fact of injury, injustice, or loss remains, but human maturation and a broader perspective on life and history can transform a personal contraction around pain into something larger, or even beautiful.

We can all recognize the power and grace of a wounded person who accepts, forgives, gains wisdom, and reaches out to help others.

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Further Thoughts on Growth was published on April 18th, 2011 . 4 comments






Blogging to Fruition

Why do I keep writing on a site that few read? This is a question worth asking these days.

Lately I’ve been going through an exciting period of growth. This progress has prompted me to write a bit more, resulting in the increased frequency of posts.

Because the topics have fit the theme of my other blog (GuidePosts to Happiness at the PsychCentral website), I’ve been posting versions of the same essays in two places. People visiting from the other site may have been disappointed to find more or less the same pieces here as there. The older WS! posts differ from those on GTH, but not the new ones.

Because this site feels like home, it’s important to me to keep it at least a little distinct from the more public, but less personal, venue. So today’s essay is only for WillSpirit!

To get back to where I started this post, now seems like a good time to briefly evaluate my experience with blogging. My foray into this over-crowded field began in May of 2009, back when I thought writing and speaking might be viable career options. I’d tried a number of other directions, none of which panned out. Although the possibility of making a living by writing seemed remote, to say the least, I could think of few other possibilities. Besides, I’d always thought of myself as a writer. It seemed time to give it a determined try.

Pretty soon I saw that the difficulty exceeded my expectations. Not that I ever anticipated easy success, but I quickly realized that my writing does not stand out. There are just too many good blogs and books out there covering the same topics (mental health, spirituality, recovery). At first this felt discouraging, but before long it felt liberating.

I learned that the pleasure of blogging does not come from having high visit numbers. It comes from the comments. There have never been that many, but some sound so very heartfelt that early on I realized this writing project connects me with others in a unique way. My very personal story of hardship and transcendence seems to resonate with a small number of readers. This recognition changes my little misery into something larger; it connects me with the global suffering of humanity. As soon as I released my dreams of glory, I began to appreciate the profound gratification of both the connection and the expansion this project grants me.

I don’t know how many people read my posts. Depending on what site gives me the stats, there are between 25 and 250 unique visitors per day. Judging by the low volume of comments, I’m inclined to suspect that the actual readership is very small, and although there seems to be a bit more traffic when I post regularly, I doubt even two dozen people are reading my essays. It doesn’t matter. I’m perfectly happy with my unknown site and its tiny audience. This comfort with obscurity shows what I’ve really gained in the last two years: humility that counts.

With less helpful kinds of humility, we accept our smallness out of necessity. We abandon our grand dreams reluctantly and only because they collapsed. We take disappointment like bitter medicine, and try to feel comfortable with our fate. Most of us are forced to grow into this kind of humility at times, but it doesn’t feel like a gift. To be humbled in this way may be a necessary step toward maturity, but it is not an endpoint.

True humility is the loving embrace of present reality. It means seeing very clearly who we are and who we are not, and feeling good about what we see. True humility is a gate into the garden of grace. I suspect it would be as valuable to the famous as it is to the obscure. To be contented with who, what, and where we are is to be fully alive and in tune with creation.

Some dear people read this site and leave deeply meaningful comments. For that reason, plus the clarity I derive from putting feelings into words, I’m getting a lot out of blogging. I wouldn’t exchange my current situation for anything grander. Who knows what the future holds, and who cares? Right now, this very day, I am happy being me. I feel no need to be more, nor do I have any sense of being less. In the words of Lao Tzu: “He who knows he has enough is rich.”

Humility and clarity, not fame and fortune, have been the fruit of WillSpirit! What could be more valuable?

Thank you to those who’ve shared any part of this journey with me.

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Blogging to Fruition was published on April 13th, 2011 . 13 comments






My Worst Post Ever

My last essay may have been my least favorite ever. Because I’m writing so sporadically here on WillSpirit, the readership has dropped sharply. If the site were still attracting people, I would have removed that last post in light of its negativity. A certain loyal reader of this blog cancelled her subscription because of it. Living as I do in the liberal environment of the San Francisco Bay area, it is easy to forget that half the country likes Dick Cheney and George Bush. My point on this blog has always been to foster emotional growth and wisdom, and I’ve had no interest in engaging politics beyond what directly affects people who struggle with psychiatric conditions. By attacking the former vice president in the context of the Gulf oil apocalypse, I broke one of my cardinal rules.

I’m leaving the essay in place as a reminder to myself that mental circuitry can sometimes arise that works against one’s larger purposes. In fact, such independent entities take over all the time. Why else do we say things we don’t mean, or hurt those we love, or sabotage our chances? We each live with the illusion of being a single, coherent human mind, but in reality the ‘self’ is a chaotic collection of influences that compete for control. One advantage of meditation is that it allows one to begin to see how thoughts, moods, and urges skitter across the interior landscape like tumbleweeds in a gusty and shifting wind. In my better moments I can see when a rogue element is taking over, but sometimes a whole hour can be spent writing something that’s supposed to be inspirational and wise, but is in fact just an opportunistic expression of my frustration with the American political system.

Whether a certain man acted in a certain way and promoted a catastrophe or not, the point I was trying to make ended up coming out by example rather than exposition. The exact tendencies that tempt me to judge and criticize are the same mental movements that allow people to act in ways that go against the common good. We are none of us so virtuous and pure in action that we don’t sometimes act with selfish or hostile motives.

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My Worst Post Ever was published on June 9th, 2010 . 9 comments






Hello. Redux.

Before long, I may get back to posting more regularly. My memoir class finishes soon. No other big projects loom. So it will make sense to come back here. But I feel different. Stronger, perhaps. The break restored me after my marathon writing about the sexual abuse, etc. That took much of my energy, and left me feeling like there was little left to tell.

There is much to tell, of course. As long as there remain sentences which have never been written, there is more to write. To pen my thoughts has become such a vital part of my life, in fact, that I am thinking of going to graduate school to learn to write better. I’m exploring programs, preparing applications. The best schools are out of state, and probably out of my reach anyway. The ‘low-residency’ schools, where you only spend two weeks at the place once or twice a year, are more in line with what I want, anyway. Moving at this stage seems unlikely. And even the constraint of traveling to class several times a week would prevent us from coming here to Yosemite as often as we like. The low residency are expensive (the best full-time programs provide funding,) and I don’t know my chances of acceptance. So whether this happens or not is still a very open question. But that’s my current aspiration, in case anyone is reading, and in case you are interested.

This little post is just a warm-up. It breaks the barrier between not working on this blog, versus starting in again. So now I’ve written something. Now, I hope, it will be easier to open the site and post. It is high time I went around to everyone else’s site, even if I don’t get going here again. I’ve missed you.

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Hello. Redux. was published on October 24th, 2009 . 4 comments






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