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.


Biology, Spirit, and Transcendence

My blog’s tagline includes the word spirituality, which has devolved into a vague term that can mean almost anything. In the interest of clarity and to balance the two previous posts that emphasized material takes on human life, this essay will outline my spiritual path and beliefs. Readers may or may not be interested, but it helps me to spell out my philosophy from time to time, especially since it’s still maturing.

What follows rambles through my ideas about different metaphysical stances, to my own personal experiences with them, to a description of my current stage of development. Since my understanding of the world’s religions is superficial, at best, don’t be surprised if my statements about faith and practice sound obvious or naive.

Two posts back I stated that our animal identity constitutes “the most central and accurate description we could give of ourselves.” After all, it seems unarguable that humans are mammals with large brains. Even while writing that sentence, however, I remained aware that many resist considering themselves ‘mere’ biological organisms. Indeed, when I posted the same essay on my Psychcentral blog, the following comment came in:

Hmmmm, so we are reduced to “cycles of carbon and calcium?” I prefer that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” by our creator. As a believer, I will be returned to Him.

This reader’s opinion probably resonates with many who consider themselves religious or faithful. Here’s an edited version of what I wrote in reply:

You bring up the other common opinion about ultimate identity: that we are best described as conscious entities (souls) inhabiting organic forms. But even if one takes that view, at death the body is still reduced to its constituent elements and recycled in the biosphere. The two viewpoints are not mutually exclusive. In fact, since our biological form is apparent, while our spiritual nature remains debatable, even believers should look for ways to interweave the two perspectives. To deny our biology is to deny material reality, just as to deny our divinity is to deny higher meaning.

Divinity, as I intend it here, is a loose term meant to suggest that we have inner measures of soulfulness that go beyond the solid, predictable qualities of organic matter.

In the opinion of Christians and Muslims, each person has an immortal soul that is born once to this world and then consigned to eternal bliss or damnation based on a lifetime’s accounting of virtue, sin, faithfulness, and redemption. The sensible person thus works toward righteous behavior in order to secure a place in Paradise.

According to many Hindus and Buddhists, a soul (or its equivalent) is reborn repeatedly through time because of karmic entanglements accrued in previous incarnations. The wise soul engages in right action to limit such attachments and thus escape the cycle of death and rebirth.

Not all religions postulate an eternal and personal soul. For instance, Western Buddhist teachers seldom mention reincarnation. They discuss the basic principles of detachment and right behavior without reference to rebirth. This obviates the need to discuss a soul-entity, and in fact the Buddha himself rejected the existence of a discrete soul, since he found no evidence for any consistent, fixed self in his deep explorations of mind. Most Buddhists in the USA seek direct, meditative insight into the nature of consciousness as the ultimate goal of practice and don’t worry about escaping the cycles of birth and death. The focus is on mental process without invocation of any divine or eternal soul.

Many contemplative traditions (including some strains of Sufism, Christianity, Buddhism, and Hinduism) also reject the personal soul-concept. However, they do so by invoking a universal consciousness that subsumes the individual. This is the non-dual stance, which sees no meaningful distinction between soul and body, or between spirit and matter, or between God and individual souls. According to this philosophy, all beings arise as creative expressions of one vast Presence that manifests in myriad forms but retains core unity, which unenlightened humans fail to grasp. Such analysis rejects boundaries as illusory, whether between individuals, between people and animals, or between people and Divine Nature. We are viewed as all of one body, in the deepest sense. This perspective is essentially ecological and fits well with what we see in the biosphere.

Those of conventional scientific persuasion bristle at mention of either soul or universal consciousness. They see any suggestion of mystical reality as unfounded, infantile, and dangerous. But there is no scientific evidence that rules out either individual souls or cosmic consciousness. Quantum mechanical principles such as entanglement and non-locality provide plausible, if completely unproven, mechanisms whereby enduring impressions of mental life could be retained in the cosmic matrix without violating established physical laws. These ‘recordings’ could possess all the qualities we expect of discrete souls or universal awareness.

Over the years I’ve explored many different metaphysical positions. Raised as an atheist and educated extensively as a biologist, I never seriously questioned the strict materialist perspective until age twenty-nine. At that time, as I entered Alcoholics Anonymous and felt encouraged to find a ‘higher power,’ fate connected me with the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). Quakerism eschews dogma and doctrine in favor of direct, experiential discovery of ‘the light of Christ’ within each of us.

In 2000, after a series of profound (even shattering) spiritual experiences, I converted to Catholicism. For many years I went to mass several times a week and tried hard to buy into the Roman Catholic worldview. But although I appreciated the call to mysticism and the sacred rituals, the Church’s dogmatism, reactionary sociopolitical views, and rejection of female priesthood alienated me.

As an alternative, I explored Buddhist meditation. For two years I went to local meditation centers for weekly sittings and occasional longer retreats. At the same time, I undertook an intensive program of reading about Buddhism. The emphasis on silence and detached observation of thought felt quite helpful and fit with the clinically oriented mindfulness meditation I’d learned ten years earlier in classes at a local medical center. But in the end, I had trouble with Buddhist emphasis on emptiness and detachment. Although I see the value of exploring these qualities, they offer little in the way of felt love or sweetness. Meditative consciousness is vast and reverberant, but not inherently warm.

Next, I explored a Hindu offshoot at a retreat center that opened a couple of miles from my home. The monastics taught me to visualize my soul as residing in the area of the third eye in the middle of my forehead. I learned to concentrate on my soulful qualities rather than my bodily identity. This approach challenged me at first, because so much noise and confusion seems to arise in my head, and focusing my attention there failed to quiet the uproar. At the suggestion of a skilled meditator, I adjusted the technique by moving my conscious centerpoint to my heart, where there is more peace and warmth. Before long, I awoke to the powerful illumination of an ancient inner awareness that has little use for my day-to-day worries, ambitions, and desires. This inner light feels like a combination of personal soul and universal Presence arising from the cosmos itself.

Oddly, and beautifully, I now find myself having gone full circle. After all my explorations I am back at the Quaker starting point, only with a much more palpable sense of that divine light within each of us. This is experience and not belief. I cannot justify it in rational terms and see no reason to try. All I can do is describe what happens when my meditations go well. It matters little to me whether my direct apprehension of love, unity, and rightness resides only in my brain or truly connects, as it seems to, with a cosmic consciousness. Because it is experiential and not referential, it feels quite solid and unshakable. Some days I interpret my soulfulness in mystical terms, and other days I think about it in purely neurological ones. But no matter what I believe about this state of mind, it brings me peace.

Every person must choose her or his own path, and I have learned to judge no one’s, not even my own. Those who prefer material atheism have adopted a belief system that requires no leap of faith and has a logically satisfying internal consistency. Those who believe in heaven or reincarnation, and who view souls as eternal and individual, have found a comforting formula that gives meaning to what happens here on earth. Those who meditate mindfully to enter spacious states of consciousness experience inexpressible mental stillness. Non-dualists, in turn, use their practice to find (what seems like) experiential confirmation of an ageless and infinite cosmic unity.

For my part, I know only that there is something that feels divine and non-egoic in the center of my chest. It beats like a spiritual heart throbbing in unison with the biological pump that moves my blood. My metaphysical position is neither more nor less valid than any other. It has features in common with the tenets of materialism, since my bliss seems deeply rooted in my biology. It shares some aspects of the soul-religions, because the brightness within acts like an eternal spark that illuminates my better nature. Consciousness also feels enhanced, as I tune into the infinite harmony that comes with silent meditation. My practice has non-dual aspects too, since in its highest expression I feel merged with all beings and all Nature.

This is my spiritual trail, which has been blazed through two-and-a-half decades of searching and introspection. I believe each of us must choose whatever path feels right. We should seek the tradition(s) that can heal both our own wounds and the troubles of the larger world.

So although I spent two posts honoring humans as living, breathing organisms, it feels vital to round out the discussion with my conviction that we also embody a loving, timeless Presence that permeates and transcends our material forms. This may be a personal soul, or a universal one. It may be pure consciousness or an artifact of brain physiology. No matter. It dwells within each of us, waiting for the day we abandon our desperate scheming and open to Life in all its terror, splendor, and Grace.

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Forget “God.” Believe in Love.

In the last post I announced readiness to believe in a loving cosmic presence, which seemed reasonable to call “God.” Today, I’m uneasy with that language because of all the negative and controversial connotations of the word.

An over-riding conscious awareness in the universe no longer strikes me as impossible, and I see belief in it as a useful device whether it exists ontologically or not. The God word would be appropriate if it could be stripped of its accretions, but it has become almost hopelessly polluted. Like a once lovely meadow freighted with generations of industrial waste, “God” is a word that simply can’t be invoked as an address for something as pure and unthreatening as what’s in my heart. The loving presence I refer to has none of the judging, demanding, rigid, conceptualized, authoritarian, and implausible qualities that G-O-D language sometimes brings up in Jewish-Christian-Muslim traditions.

Although last time I admitted readiness to believe, I’m not sure that belief is even the right descriptor for my new understanding. As I explained two posts back, the experience of divine presence is real. The occurrence of what feel like spiritually enlightened states stands beyond argument, because too many people have described them. It doesn’t even matter if transcendent awareness occurs only in the brain and connects with nothing else. It happens, and that’s the key issue.

I’ve entered numinous states many times. To varying degrees these experiences make the cosmos appear permeated by: 1. Love, 2. Unity, and 3. Rightness. I’ve never felt any judgment or fear when this feeling takes hold. It is wordless, expansive, and utterly peaceful. It also feels unquestionably real and important. If you want to tell me that it’s just my brain playing tricks, I’ll grant that it could be ‘all in my head,’ but it’s no trick. It’s the healthiest frame of mind one can imagine.

So shouldn’t I, and we, aim to live in this realization more often? Why would we want anything more (or less) than to move through a universe that felt loving, connected, and fundamentally perfect? (Note that I’m ascribing perfection to the cosmos as a whole, not to that tiny droplet of chaos we know as human society. Our culture is very, very far from perfect. But our constricted and collective neurosis does not detract from the infinite beauty of all that is.) What’s shifted for me is that I’m finally open to believing that transcendent feelings don’t need to be transient; one can deliberately foster them and live with them on an ongoing basis. Sure, there will be lapses even for saints. But deep loving awareness can underpin large portions of daily life, rather than arising as occasional momentary relief from an otherwise bleak existence.

To explain this in words, and especially in a short essay, is impossible. You’ll just have to trust me that with meditative and personal work, and a 180 degree change in attitude, it is possible to find a radiant love within the self that dispels all worries about success, approval, affection, security, and so on.

When I announced in my last piece a willingness to have faith, I meant faith in the centrality of this love. I have come to accept that this principle resides in every one of us, and only needs the right approach to life to manifest itself. It is a universal value that we all know deep down, but cannot access because of the toxicity that surrounds and penetrates us, including the pollution that has nearly ruined the word God.

The normal course of every human life is to move toward this principle, though some people make very little progress while others end up deeply immersed in it. You often hear stories of nasty, hurtful personalities who transform into loving, caring servants of humanity. People rarely, if ever, change in the other direction. Furthermore, each of us is born in exactly this state as infants. You rarely, if ever, see a mean baby. Love is both our initial nature and the proper final goal of life.

So scratch the word God from the discussion. It is irrelevant in this context. Focus on the moments in your life when you felt the unity, rightness, and love that I describe. That experience is what I believe in, not some concept. My big recent shift is in recognizing that the numinous state of mind is always available, provided we let go of a lifetime of confused and delusional beliefs about what’s important. Obviously, this can be challenging, but it now appears possible. What a relief!

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What, Me Worry?

In May 2009, when this blog launched, I seldom hesitated to disclose my darker moods. Thinking back to my posts this year, on the other hand, it seems obvious that my comfort with opening up has diminished. The more recent writings emphasize my highest spiritual peaks and wisest mindsets. During periods of discouragement and seeming defeat, I seldom blog.

Although my posting frequency has decreased largely because of my acupuncture project, clamming up in the face of distress explains many of my quiet intervals. The pragmatic reason for holding back has to do with expectations society places on physicians. It’s bad enough to be practicing medicine with a fairly ‘out there’ stance on my past emotional difficulties. It would be even worse to suggest that turmoil happens in the present day. But why not take a chance and admit it does?

OK, here it is: sometimes I’m far from spiritually grounded, and all too close to neurosis. My suspicion is that this is true of most of us in modern times (although people feel their discouragement to different degrees of intensity), but it can be dicey to break the silence and admit it. For some reason, states other than happiness are viewed as wrong, if not diseased.

I’ll grant that the healthiest mindset is a contented one, and that true mystical realization would likely lead to peacefulness that didn’t fluctuate all that much. But average or even above average mental health includes times of darkness. Moments of doubt should not be considered illnesses or useless afflictions. Maybe they are promptings; maybe they are the mind’s way of calling for course adjustment; but they are no more a sign of disease than feeling tired after a long day at work. Life can be exhausting in contemporary society, and I believe we have a right and perhaps a duty to acknowledge this fundamental truth.

It does not follow that fatigue and sorrow is a normal human state we have no choice but to endure. I don’t believe that human experience has to be so punishing. As things stand, we’re bound to feel existential grief simply from looking at the modern scene with its myriad problems and discords. But perhaps if we all confessed to feeling overwhelmed, we’d start working together to build a more supportive culture.

As I’ve progressed on my journey, my distressing times have started to reflect the universal stress of daily life rather than specific trials of my childhood. This reversal from my previous situation seems like progress: at least now I’m reacting more to current stressors and less to historical patterning.

But I still react, and I’ve been remiss in not reporting my less admirable states of mind. Hopefully, this essay rectifies that lapse. Of course, you’ll note this post contains little about what I’ve specifically felt in past weeks. For reasons of professionalism, I’m refraining from describing details with my prior vivid emotional language. Even so, I want to come forward and dispel any notion that readers may hold, and especially that I might hold myself, which suggests I’ve found permanent spiritual grounding.

Without doubt I have my moments of dwelling in a psychic garden of profound acceptance and understanding. On the other hand, during recent months there have been many days when such verdant landscape seemed quite unreachable.

My previous stance was that occasional intense emotional pain would ever be part of my experience, and my task in life was to learn to live well even so. But after a recent weekend spiritual retreat, several key insights arose that have me questioning psychic fatalism. In short, there may be reason to hope that with the proper attitude I can actually eliminate or at least greatly reduce the times of anguish.

In my meditation practice to date, I’ve concentrated on entering primal awareness as a path toward serene acceptance of my place in the human drama. That my saga would continue to unfold with battering effect, and that the universe would stand dispassionately aside as I flailed through the churning waves of fate remained unquestioned.

The ideas of a deeply loving cosmos, and especially a personal God, seemed both unnecessary and untenable.

My position has changed. The previous post describes one line I’ve managed to draw through the thicket of controversy in order to entertain the idea of a caring and discrete Godlike consciousness. After this past weekend retreat, it seems obvious to me that my inner discord would be soothed if I allowed myself to take the next step and actually believe. In short, my life would go more smoothly with a measure of faith as it is traditionally understood.

To even raise the possibility of believing in a God who holds a personal stake in our experience feels more dangerous than admitting the fact of my ongoing periodic darkness, but I would dearly like this journal to remain honest and genuine. Thus I confess to facing a choice: either relinquish my skepticism and have faith in personalized cosmic love, or adhere to the ‘sophisticated’ intellectualism that dismisses such notions as childish, ignorant, and fearful.

More and more, the former seems like the wiser and healthier selection. Not because there is any empirical evidence for a loving God, but because such belief promises great relief to my lonely soul, which otherwise resonates with the aftermath of childhood bereavement, abuse, and neglect. I feel no call to believe in a directing God who intervenes or protects, for which I see absolutely no evidence. But a conviction that the universe cares whether or not we find inner satisfaction on our journey would be supremely comforting. Fortunately, after a great deal of study, thought, and introspection, I’ve accepted that the possibility is not farfetched.

This is as honest as I can be: although emotional pain now seems acceptable and sometimes even enriching, I’d rather move beyond it. As nearly as I can tell, getting to a state beyond inner turmoil is going to require humble acceptance of ideas that are neither sophisticated nor rationally supportable. Will the world think I’ve abandoned my intellect?

If the payoff is loving peace of mind, why would I care?

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Faith in Faith

A blog is forever a work in progress, never a polished and completed tome. Unlike a book that gets reorganized and revised many times before publication, a blog flows with only a little more planning and control than stream of consciousness writing. Sometimes I write a series of posts in which each new piece serves as a corrective to the last. This is such a time.

First I wrote a post describing an approach to life that leads to peace with no dependence on metaphysical beliefs. Then in a second essay I remarked on numinous and nonverbal realizations that sometimes erupt in the human mind, and described their transformative value. At the same time, I cautioned against forcing interpretations on the resulting transcendent states of mind. In that second piece, I rather inexpertly equated faith with belief. I told of the dangers of combatting doubt with ‘blind faith’. In so doing, I sidestepped a subtlety I want to address now.

There are actually two different uses of the word faith in this context. In the first and shallower meaning the word is employed as a stand-in for belief. This is the species of faith that gets people and societies in trouble. It results in admonitions such as: “Don’t question your faith.” Its outcome is dogmatic sectarianism. Allegorical texts written in distant epochs and regions become deified as literal truth and the word of God. Because these ancient stories and precepts were written and revised by multiple authors, they are rife with internal contradictions. But the “faithful” are commanded to accept inconsistencies as indicative of God’s inscrutable ways. They are encouraged to defend a logically indefensible belief system. This sort of faith resides in the egoic, verbal mind. In the worst case, it leads to violence.

The second, deeper, faith is gentler and heart-derived. When we see people who weather terrible suffering with grace, we are watching such faith in action. There may or may not be a particular religious belief system at work, but peace in the face of terror arises from heartfelt confidence in cosmic ‘rightness’ that arises from the deeper wells of human spirit. It is faith that the universe is so lovely and mysterious that the only sensible stance is to surrender before its howling gales with awe. It bespeaks a tender relationship with life that makes no demands, but accepts the gift of every living moment.

This second, organic faith underlies the awareness of cosmic interweaving that I proposed as a basis for inner peace two essays ago. It is the ultimate fruit that grows from the intrepid kernels of mystical awakening I mentioned last time. When fully developed, one stands humbled before the magnificent complexity and timeless beauty of cosmic unfolding. One lives as the willing and admiring flesh of the earth and no longer struggles against fate.

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Derailing Certainty

You could call it a crisis of faith. On the one hand, I no longer believe science to be the answer to human ills. (Take a look at my recent post on GuidePosts to Happiness to see how my opinion about brain study has changed.) On the other, I’m not able to accept the extravagant claims made by many of those who declare themselves intensely spiritual or religious. Although I believe psychic phenomena have been empirically demonstrated to operate at a statistically significant level, I find it impossible to accept much of what I hear about channeling, astral projection, and so on.

Those who adhere to materialist philosophy seem too rigid, while those who embrace spiritual perspectives often seem too lax. I like the way consciousness studies mesh with quantum mechanics to yield a scientifically plausible theory of universal mind. But my cautious beliefs lie outside both the narrow confines of conventional science and the freewheeling borders of New Age metaphysics.

The scientific method has succeeded because it insists on repeatable observations. But the phenomena that support spiritual beliefs are idiosyncratic and inherently unpredictable. The only way we can currently verify psychic abilities, for instance, is through large numbers of trials. When these are done, it can be shown that some people are able to predict outcomes of simple events at rates statistically greater than chance, but practically rather close to it. In day-to-day life, many people encounter remarkable coincidences that apparently defy material explanation, and so they become convinced of subtle guiding influences in life. Yet it remains impossible to cite evidence that proves directedness rather than randomness as the root cause.

There seems to be a quality built into this universe that prevents final proofs. This failure of the cosmos to cooperate with our need for unambiguous evidence doesn’t prevent many people from claiming certainty about the nature of reality. But it does prevent us from comparing notes and agreeing on a single Truth. In the end, everything we believe requires a leap of faith. If we think materialist science explains all ‘real’ phenomena, we must deny all the supposedly fringe research that doesn’t fit in conventional paradigms. Worse, we must predict the future and exclude the possibility of new technology someday detecting the very forces we now consider imaginary and delusional.

But if we open to the spiritual perspective, before long we are confronted with claims that exceed our tolerance. Maybe we can ‘buy’ a vague universal consciousness, but we can’t accept a God that blesses only one select group and by omission damns all others. Or maybe we can believe that subtle influences draw us toward lessons and opportunities, but we bridle at claims that we ‘create our own reality’ through our thoughts and actions.

The universe doesn’t provide fixed bases for our beliefs or, for that matter, our security. This is a point often made by Pema Chodron: “there is no solid ground.” Wise sanity requires that we know we can’t know, and accept that the only thing we can count on is change. The photo that heads this post shows a train knocked off its tracks by the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. It’s a reasonable metaphor for the fate of our certainties in an unstable world.

If the cosmos conspires to unsettle our convictions, than perhaps transcendence demands a crisis of faith. Maybe letting go of certitude facilitates the maturation process. Perhaps losing confidence in science but resisting wild spiritual claims is essential to attaining a truly free state of mind.

At the same time, there is something healing about possessing faith. It seems to me that faith does not require belief, only confidence that history is blossoming properly. The trick may be in believing faith justified, while disengaging fixed ideas. Sanity and growth are helped when we find meaning and quit searching for certainty.

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Meaning. What?

Synchronicity, according to Wikipedia, was a term coined by Carl Jung to describe events that have no apparent causal relationship but occur together in a meaningful manner. Two people talk about a mutual friend neither has seen for years, and as they discuss her one of their cellphones rings with a call from that very woman. The day after you lose a job, an acquaintance calls you about a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you realize you are only free to take it because you are unemployed.

These sorts of coincidences happen commonly, at least to me and to many people I know. They do not constitute proof of hidden organizing principles in the universe, but they are suggestive. Wikipedia mentions Littlewood’s Law in the article about synchronicity. Littlewood used statistical reasoning to demonstrate that apparently miraculous events (defined as those with one in a million probability of happening by chance) will occur spontaneously about once a month in any person’s life. This explains unusual events, but not necessarily meaningful ones. What strikes me about occurrences that seem serendipitous is not so much their unlikelihood, but their timing.

A week or so ago I spent a night in deep despair about my new career direction. I had returned from the second of three acupuncture training intensives, and felt pessimistic about my chances for success. It firghtens me to contemplate returning to clinical practice after such a long absence. Being a doctor did not come naturally to me when I was first learning, and the role always felt stressful. I was extremely hard on myself every time I made a mistake. It should be widely known from all that’s been written about errors in medicine that mistakes do occur in clinical settings. I certainly made some decisions I later questioned, and there were times I outright screwed up. Heading back into a clinical environment reawakens that old anxiety in a big way.

True, acupuncture is very safe. If performed with reasonable care, the likelihood of injury is exceedingly small, and far lower than the complication rate of Western medical procedures. Further, the technique is forgiving and flexible. There is no single right way to perform acupuncture. Every choice of point to use, stimulation to provide, and timing to follow can be argued from different perspectives to yield different answers. So the chance of harming someone, or even making an unequivocal mistake, is tiny enough that I should relax. But I don’t.

Or I didn’t until a couple of strange events occurred. Ever since I started working toward acupuncture, serendipitous occurrences have been popping up with surprising frequency. The morning after that despairing night I went to a 12-step meeting. The topics at this meeting are chosen by selecting quotes from a compilation of writings by Bill Wilson (AA’s founder). The vignette someone selected this particular morning talked about Bill’s decision to return to Wall Street after a ten-year absence, and all the fear that preceded his going back. He felt afraid of the hard-driving environment, and worried he would drink again. Instead, it turns out, he flourished and remained sober.

The timing of that reading, which I’d never heard before, seemed too coincidental to ignore. Bill Wilson worrying about returning to Wall Street after ten years mirrored my fretting about going back to medicine after the same amount of time. The parallel hit me powerfully, and went a long way toward easing my anxiety. Another event of almost equal apparent significance happened the same day. Like I said above, there have been many such alignments as I’ve worked toward my new career. They make it easier to have faith in my path.

It would be logical enough to take the cynical view, as no doubt many readers will, and say that hearing that quote on that day really was not very unusual, or that it only seemed significant because I wanted it to, or that I somehow influenced the choice of reading (though it was made before I entered the room). It would be easy to do that, but not comforting.

Far more satisfying to believe that this is a sign I am on the right path. I’m not saying this guarantees my success; far from it. But it does encourage me to have faith; to go forward; to not quit.

Synchronicity seems real to enough to the population at large that the 1992 novel The Celestine Prophecy, by James Redfield, became a huge best-seller. I recently read the book and enjoyed its confident assertion that the events in our lives have meaning that we can use. Aside from that hopeful outlook, however, it is light on plot and not particularly well crafted. It is a testament to how often people encounter serendipity that the book sold so well.

Again, this is not proof. But it shows that synchronicity is something many experience. This fact could be explained cynically, but there is also room for deeper significance. The possibility is allowable (though by no means demonstrable) within the confines of known science. Quantum mechanics states that matter and events are deeply interconnected. Back when I learned the subject in preparation for my biophysics graduate work, it struck me as highly suggestive from a spiritual standpoint. Indeed, it strikes all people in this way if they are even slightly open to metaphysical views. Although those with strong materialist opinions argue the point, quantum principles provide potential mechanisms for meaningful synchronicity.

I therefore choose to interpret my apparently synchronistic experiences as signs of directed movement in the universe. I see them as validating my path. Such thinking is without solid proof, but it is supportable. For me, thinking this way makes life just a bit more tolerable.

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Back On Track!

RailroadTrack

Now that’s convincing! Not too many entries ago, my newfound spiritual basis seemed pretty solid. It felt different from the worn-out emotional trampoline that normally supports me: the one that’s sagging in the middle and kind of bouncy. This new foundation seemed secure, and unlikely to be just another illusion of mental health, soon to give way like all the other false structures that tempt my grasp. When the slump described yesterday occurred, my hopes for ongoing support weakened only slightly. Who wouldn’t feel defeated after getting partially blinded and treated like a peasant during a visit to one’s former kingdom? The acid-test is in resilience. Did spiritual calm return, along with an accepting attitude and sense of lightness? It did.

The episode gives fuel for discussion. First, spiritual centration does not free us from all distress. It helps us take the buffets of life in stride, with a relaxed confidence in our strength to survive. However, what sucks still sucks, and bad days still come. But they also go. Rather than remaining in a funk, yesterday saw me go about my business chagrined, but ready to work through the storm. Today sees me fully back in the sunshine. During cold winter rain, faith acts as a kind of trenchcoat or umbrella; not like a permanent relocation to Hawaii.

Second, faith works. Sound familiar? To the other ways belief helps, we can add: it makes accepting disappointments easier. Genuine faith includes the belief that the world is working more or less as it should. Not that cruelty and tragedy are ‘God’s will’, but that our presence and our experience are not giant cosmic mistakes. We are living as humans live, sharing the human lot. The faithful believe that humanity is more than a pointless accident in an utterly heartless cosmos. In my case, I believe people serve as witnesses, allowing creation to experience itself. Deepak Chopra said something to that effect on a video; without quoting him exactly he told an audience that they were the ‘eyes of the universe’. The goal of life, in that view, is simply to observe and learn. Christians believe that our trials give us opportunities to overcome sin, and thus move closer to Christ. Regardless of how we envision ‘God’, when we feel spiritually centered, we know that we can profit from whatever comes. Every tragedy offers a particle of wisdom, invites us to rise above base instincts, and adds to the treasure gained from life. Faith is not just a superficial belief system, either. The current runs much deeper, so that we feel these truths as warm and solid supports in times of trial.

Third, it’s vital to dispense with the disparaging comments about my spiritual experiences. This insight comes from jss who has been helping me stay in line during my discussion of faith. (As a neophyte, I need lots of assistance with getting it right.) Up until now, each description of one of my mystical moments has come with a proviso saying that it could have just been ‘a spasm’ or ‘craziness’ or ‘pathetic’. The pejorative language is unfair. Even if these events do not point to any larger consciousness in the cosmos, the fact that they lead to acceptance and peace means they should be labelled with healthier-sounding words. Writing about my peak experiences of ten years ago has improved my attitude, increased my resilience, and delivered contented peace to my heart. All this without any betterment in material circumstances. Given that they have provided so much, those experiences may have been my brain at its best, not at its sickest.

ReefLife

The spirituality project that began more than twenty posts back was supposed to help people in Alcoholics Anonymous get past the ego’s resistance to faith. No one in my regular AA group has expressed much interest in this effort. Fortunately, my online community has been far more receptive. But whether anyone else benefits or not, it has carried me to a place I’ve sought for decades. The act of writing has transformed my unusual experiences, which were too overwhelming to assimilate ten years ago, into solid cornerstones of faith. Due to both the memories and the gentle answers to my rational mind’s objections, the creative process has helped me release my death-grip on the piers of materialism. It has freed me to swim in the tropical waters of faith, which teem with hidden and beautiful forms of life.

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In BIOPE We Trust


This post is one in a string of essays about spirituality. It may make sense to start with the first entry in the series.


Redwoods

My series of spirituality posts is a work-in-progress. Each entry is essentially a second draft, and even after posting I reserve the right to revise the documents. I know doing so is frowned upon, but I am trying to offer something effective for others who share my desire for faith, but who insist on respecting the bounds of science and common sense. Naturally, as I get comments, or think further, or reread, I see ways to make the text better. Rather than posting a series of versions, or showing my corrections, I will update on the fly. What you read today may change tomorrow. If anyone wants to see an older draft, I will do my best to find it if you ask.

The reason I bring this up now is that late yesterday I ended my post with the acronym BUCCUA—Benign Universal Consciousness that Connects Us All. It came to me in a rush, and I did not spend time thinking of alternatives. This morning I looked up ‘buccua’ in the dictionary. The word is absent, but ‘buccula’ is close, and it refers to a double chin. Not exactly an elevated concept. I kind of like the look and sound of BUCCUA. It echoes the adjective buccal, which refers to mouth, like the ‘mouth of God.’ It sounds a bit like bacchanalia, which is lighthearted and pagan. But it can’t be said to have an attractive pronunciation, and does not quite roll off the tongue. It also reminds me of bocce ball. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, since it conjures up unpredictable collisions and leisure time. But it isn’t exactly lofty.

So this morning I got busy with alternatives. Here are a few:

  • Transcendent Universal Mind that Encompasses Everything–TUMEE
  • Pervasive and Universal Spirit that Holds You—PUSHY
  • Benevolent Integrating Omniscience, Present and Eternal–BIOPE

Would it surprise you that I prefer the last? It brings in ‘bio’ for life, sounds a bit like ‘hope,’ and captures all the elements that I think BUCCUA (oops BIOPE) should possess:

NeuronsInTheBrain


The BIOPE list of ‘divine’ qualities:

  • Benvolent–This is important, because I do not believe this entity to be neutral and dispassionate (or even worse: stern and judgmental,) but instead forms a current of love.
  • Integrating–It connects everything and everyone.
  • Omniscience–If only because it interweaves all minds and all matter/energy/time, it is both aware, and aware of everything.
  • Present–It has presence in the metaphysical sense. It is accessible and with us.
  • Eternal–It has always been and will always be. It may evolve along with the universe, but it has roots that anchor it outside the stream of time.

I welcome suggestions, and will continue to think about this. In the end, poor BUCCUA may get axed.

BIOPE goes beyond my initial promise. I said my goal was to show how a universal consciousness might exist within the constraints of what we know to be true and reasonable. By invoking BIOPE, I am not just saying that something might exist, I am beginning to spell out what it is. This skates dangerously close to devising a theology. On the other hand, an entity without the qualities of BIOPE might not be worthy of faith. If it was not benvolent, and just stood by without real concern and love, it would offer scant comfort. If it did not integrate everything, then it would not awaken us to our connection with others. If it were not omniscient, then our hearts could hide from it, and it might fail to motivate us. If it were not present and accessible, we could not get any real benefit from it. And if it were not eternal, then it would lack one of the prime characteristics we expect of a divinity.

There may be qualities I should include that BIOPE fails to capture. And you might argue with one or another of these characteristics. But I think BIOPE pretty well captures the pieces that are both necessary and sufficient if we are to have effective faith.

Which brings me to the question of effectiveness. The first ‘Cornerstone‘ (I may change this to ‘key’ by the way–to highlight that my goal is to open a door, not build a theology) of my program for showing that we can reasonably enjoy faith, was that ‘Faith Works.’ What does this mean?

At the end of the last entry, I said that my next post would “show how belief in [BIOPE] can be beneficial to individuals and society.” Because I woke up worrying about acronyms, I just spent this space proposing a better set of letters, and in the process listed the criteria a ‘God-like’ entity should satisfy. Having given a better picture of what it is we can allow ourselves a leap of faith toward, I am now in a position to show how such a leap helps. But I’ll beg your forbearance, and put that step off until the next entry.

***Click here for the next entry in this series.

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