WillSpirit!


∞ Where Mental Skills Heal Mental Ills ∞

A former physician writes about mental health and recovery using insights from life, science, and spiritual practice.








  • 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.


Knowledge: The Inner & Outer Paths

How do we know what we know?

There are two separate lines of inquiry: outer and inner. Observing and testing the external world leads to knowledge about material phenomena. Looking inward offers mystical insights.

The scientific-materialist bias of our age has emphasized the former and undermined the latter, but this is misguided at best and oppressive at worst. Both avenues toward knowledge yield fruit, but they each also have limits. If we neglect or suppress outer data, as we’ve seen religions attempt, we end up restricted to mythic world views that blind us to real phenomena. On the other hand, if we dismiss inner inquiry as idiosyncratic and imaginary, we close off progress toward the wordless wisdom that offers genuine salvation to the suffering mass of humanity.

The scientific revolution, which began in the Renaissance, has taught us the value of the empirical method. Sensory input from the environment, often enhanced by instrumentation, informs investigators as they develop hypotheses. Conceptual models of reality then guide further observation and/or experimentation. The results of these tests either support the evolving theory or require changes in it. Over time, models that succeed in predicting results survive while those that don’t get revised or scrapped. As explained in the last essay, scientific concepts are judged on their ability to predict outcomes; they should not be mistaken for ultimate truth.

Science needs no justification from me. It’s power is obvious. The value of nonstop technological advancement might be disputed, but not the intellectual triumphs of physics, chemistry, biology, and so on. Never before have humans known so much about the fine details of space, time, matter, and life.

Valid science must separate observation from theory. For instance, the fossil record exists and documents that life has changed through time. To deny this implication requires painfully contorted reasoning, such as the idea that God placed fossils in the earth to test our fidelity to biblical truth. Petrified organic remains are objectively real entities. Natural selection, on the other hand, is an explanatory concept proposed by Darwin. It posits that successfully reproducing life forms pass their traits onto future generations, while the traits of those that fail to reproduce die out, leading to changes in species over time. This is a powerful notion that can be used to understand not only biology but also cultural evolution, brain processes, and many other phenomena. It appears to be an actual mechanism of change, but the concept remains debatable, at least in principle. Possibly some more comprehensive explanation will emerge in the future, though if a better theory does arise, it will likely include natural selection as a limiting case. (Much like relativity theory reduces to Newtonian dynamics when velocities are in the range of everyday experience.) In any event, the verified fact that life forms evolve over geological time is separable from theories that explain how this happens. External observations and the concepts they fuel can be recognized as distinct from one another.

Inner exploration operates very differently. Deep states of meditative consciousness and sudden mystical intrusions occur commonly and stereotypically, but they neither support nor require elaborate conceptual theories. The consistent and recurring themes of such states guide generalizations but not specifics. As I’ve said in many previous posts, the main features include recognition of the profound unity of the cosmos, realization of its inherent rightness, and awareness of pervasive love emanating throughout. Secondary elements may also arise, such as insights about transience, insubstantiality, and causality. Words are inadequate to the explanatory task at hand; verbal descriptions are mere shadows of the actual experience. Because language is so inappropriate, conceptual formulation quickly obscures the heart of realization.

In essence, inner inquiry leads to knowledge that is simultaneously observation and explanation, both comprehended on a level that transcends words. This doesn’t prevent people from writing volumes about mystical insights, but such efforts are only pointers to an experience that provides immediate understanding.

Note how different this is from scientific work, where observations generally seem confusing until a theory is developed to show their coherence. Mystical realization obviates the need for theory, because it comes fully packaged as both observation and insight. When conceptual frameworks are constructed, they become susceptible to debate. They leave the spacious meadow of directly realized truth and enter a forest of controversy.

There is an area of overlap between science and mysticism. We see it most clearly when creative theorists ponder nature until an insight abruptly emerges in consciousness. The greatest thinkers, like Einstein, recognize the source of such inspiration to be mysterious and beyond deliberate control. In an echo of the mystical experience, deep contemplation leads to sudden recognition of an elegant order in the world.

Similarly, mathematicians work with purely mental objects, yet time and again their internally referent constructions have proven applicable to natural, external processes. Thus, mathematical formulations developed by Bernhard Reimann were crucial to Einstein’s development of general relativity theory. Pure, abstract reasoning (i.e., inner exploration) led to a framework that predicted astronomical observations never previously encountered by humans.

Inner inquiry and outer empiricism work differently but show areas of overlap. Both enrich human knowledge and understanding. For a blogger obsessed with mental wellness, what most distinguishes the two is that successful meditative and contemplative explorations lead directly to peace of mind. External observations are seldom so healing, except when they prompt inspiration that emerges from the depths of consciousness. When that happens, we feel warm satisfaction similar to what arises when we open to the beauty of pristine nature. The inner heart of awareness can be summoned from outside, but it germinates within. Looking inward is thus the surest path to fulfillment.

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Knowledge: The Inner & Outer Paths was published on May 6th, 2012 . 2 comments






Uncertainty as a Measure of Spirituality

In physics, the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle sets limits on knowledge. As a scientific law, its effects are seen only on the minute scale of subatomic particles. But I suspect it contains a deeper meaning that might help us relate to life in general.

The Uncertainty Principle states we can never accurately determine both the position and motion of a particle. The more we can say about an electron’s location, the less we can say about its velocity, and vice versa. As an analogy, imagine we’re tracking a red Ferrari in San Francisco. The Uncertainty Principle, if it had relevance at this scale, would say that if we know the car is currently in the middle of the Post and Hyde intersection, we can’t say how fast it’s going. It might be stopped; it might be racing at 110 mph. Or if we know it’s traveling exactly 62 mph, it could be anywhere in the city.

In ordinary life this species of uncertainty is negligible; the police can document where and how fast the Ferrari was moving when they pulled it over. But at atomic scales, the Uncertainty Principle limits our knowledge. This isn’t merely a problem of measurement failure; it’s a cosmic restriction on achievable precision. We can’t know details beyond a certain level of approximation. The consensus view is that electrons don’t move in a way that permits exact description. Matter exhibits fuzziness and randomness that cannot be resolved no matter how sophisticated our instrumentation.

In a reply to Dave’s comment on the last post, I stated:

More and more it seems to me that the path to higher consciousness demands we let go of certainty. No fixed beliefs can pass the gate… Yet something in the human mind insists on answers. Whether it’s belief in a God who listens or in a universe that doesn’t, we gravitate toward conclusions and feel uneasy when we can’t find them. But I suspect true mental presence requires that we give up our quest for certainty. We must rest in the not-knowing.

Not-knowing is a venerable practice in Eastern traditions. Ancient mystics understood there are questions that can never be answered. In this scientific era we’ve become accustomed to expecting truth to emerge upon investigation. We assume that if a phenomenon looks mysterious, time and research will eventually clarify the situation in causal and mechanistic terms. The conventional scientist understands that we don’t know everything, but he or she believes that everything is in principle knowable.

The Uncertainty Principle suggests otherwise. Even though it comes out of observations in cloud chambers and particle accelerators, I suspect it’s telling us something about the nature of ultimate reality: it’s beyond our ken. Not just in practical terms, but in absolute ones. Precise answers are not just difficult to find, they’re prohibited.

We should keep this in mind when we try to pin down spiritual truths. Maybe the reason the universe can look both sacred and heartless is that there is built-in paradox and obscuration. The more we identify with the material world the less we see of universal consciousness; the deeper we delve into meditative states, the more illusory the physical world appears. But the elusiveness of cosmic awareness and the haziness of matter are ever-present; they confront us when we push concepts too far in our search for final answers.

The point is: a universe that enforces uncertainty is a universe that promotes humility. The moment we become too sure of ourselves is the moment we risk disillusionment. Many people battle doubt by attaching ever more rigidly to convictions. Although faith plays a role in spiritual life, it can be misapplied to demand unquestioning belief of unprovable concepts. A better approach is to hold our views loosely. Since we are prohibited from finding ultimate truth, we might conclude the cosmos invites us to embrace not-knowing as the path to grace.

Imagine the discord that would simply dissolve if we all admitted we just can’t know.

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Uncertainty as a Measure of Spirituality was published on April 27th, 2012 . 9 comments






Finding Purpose

After nearly two weeks in the foothills near Yosemite, we returned to the Bay Area Sunday. Toward the end of the visit I was feeling discouraged, as my posts made clear.

My lack of purpose after the demise of the acupuncture business was hitting home. The book project softens that a little, but the right formula eludes me. So far the prose sounds like my least successful blogging: too wordy and intellectual. Lyrical description of the richness and lessons of my experiences may be beyond my ability.

Recent essays expressed remorse about my relationship with my father. Through writing here and after corresponding with my aunt, I eventually moved past that. But there remained a shadow of sadness.

The neck pain and the bad news from the recent MR scan weighed on me. I felt lonely, too.

In short, I was stuck in the familiar place of self-criticism, fear, and discouragement.

Then, on one of our last nights in the forest, something shifted inside. Peace returned.

Whenever I feel defeated the same phrase comes to mind: “God, help me.” This must be the most common human prayer, and although I don’t often believe the cosmos listens, I say it anyway. The words feel comforting, despite their futility. This time, to my relief, I heard a voice speak in a loving tone near my left shoulder: I’m right here!

Maybe I was half asleep and slipping into hypnogogic hallucination. Maybe my own thoughts rose to audibility. Regardless, I felt reassured. Why question the source? Whatever conscious presence exists in the universe, I’m convinced it arises from the depths of matter. It is not something separate from life; it is something integral to it. So if it shows up at all, it must come by way of ordinary neural pathways. Why distinguish between a dream, a thought, or the voice of God? If it feels divine, I choose to accept it as such and not worry about its provenance.

In the calm aftermath of that simple phrase uttered by something that cares, my sense of purpose became clear. I decided that since the material world no longer seems to cooperate with me, I might as well focus on the spiritual. I could even interpret the way the cosmos has frustrated my plans as God pushing me to commit to the mystical path. At times over the years I’ve glimpsed truth and entered resonant states of mind. Why not quit trying to achieve in the human sphere and instead seek awakening with all my heart and soul?

In truth, I’ve run out of options. I will either find relief through higher consciousness, or find no relief at all. And yes, I’ve been working toward realization for a long time, but not as my primary goal.

Writing still feels important, but I’m viewing it as a means to an end. It helps me make progress toward grounding in life, love, and meaning. It isn’t a project in the usual sense of the word, whether I’m working on the blog, the book, or my poetry. Writing is the road rather than the destination.

Deep down, I know with utter conviction that peace awaits, provided I get serious about taking the needed steps. This means abandoning striving for success. Instead, I will concentrate on taking care of my body, building my meditative skills, and healing my heart. It is time, at last, to journey inward toward the Light.

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Finding Purpose was published on April 24th, 2012 . 15 comments






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