WillSpirit!

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

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








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

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


The Value of Mixed Methods

In the last essay I sketched the advantage of merging scientific with meditative currents of knowledge. This marriage of the experimental with the experiential provides the mental health world with a new paradigm, one that promises to finally solve many of the mind’s most troublesome afflictions.

Still, a few questions remain. First, given that meditative traditions have produced a vast and venerable literature backed by centuries of experience healing mental ills, can we be sure neuroscience adds anything useful? Although experimental work has greatly increased understanding, has it improved healing?

In an earlier essay I argued that neurobiology has offered lots of information about the brain, but little inspiration for the mind. Most of the practical suggestions that come from brain science sound like ancient prescriptions restated in the language of neurotransmitters and neural circuitry. They don’t offer new approaches as much as new ways of describing old ones.

Readers might argue that medications and other material interventions (like shock therapy) clearly differ from the methods of meditative traditions. Leaving aside the fact that Chinese and other holistic medical systems have long employed herbal preparations to settle mental derangement, we need to ask whether these material therapies are effective enough to be considered breakthroughs. I wouldn’t argue that they have no value, but even when they work well (and they often don’t) they merely mask symptoms. They don’t transform mental life or lead to deep insight. Add to this fact the awful side effects, withdrawal symptoms, financial cost, and corruption of our health care system by profit motives, and we can legitimately question whether scientifically derived treatments are a boon or a bust.

So I am not willing to concede much to the materialist perspective when it comes to these sorts of intervention. But the scientific view remains very valuable. First, it legitimizes ancient knowledge. Spiritual texts describe consciousness and its various expressions in deeply thoughtful terms, but they also contain mythologic and metaphoric language that troubles moderns. Empirical approaches validate the wisdom attained by yogis and restate it in objective language, which helps us accept the truth of it.

Furthermore, the neuroscience perspective gives us information unavailable to meditators. Two posts back I showed how the idea of competing circuitry can explain the unevenness of our behavior. Looked at in the right way, many experimental findings can be valuable in this way. For instance, we hear about mirror neurons, which fire in the brain when specific actions are performed either by the self or another person. That our systems contain such cells shows how tightly bound we are to one another. Yes, meditative practice suggests the same interconnection, but less verifiably.

Finally, although one goal of meditative practice is escape from affliction, another is insight. There is no doubt that brain research offers us profound information about who and what we are. The brain is by no means an entire personality, but it is a big part of one. By understanding our nervous systems, we understand ourselves.

When I am feeling down these days, I sometimes visualize my dense, twining circuitry busily churning out electrochemical signals within my skull. Pondering deeply on this view of my mind, I understand in a concrete way why yogis refer to the world as Maya, or illusion. There is undoubtedly something real outside our bodies, but what we experience within are scenes manufactured by billions of interconnected neurons. Does it make sense, knowing that, to believe that a particular emotion is catastrophic? How could one seriously contemplate suicide knowing aberrant neural circuitry to be the ultimate origin of suffering? Why should one feel afflicted at all?

In fact, with that understanding held in mind, any state at all can be viewed in a detached and admiring way. What a privilege to experience the workings of this marvelous living brain, this complex organic structure, while embraced by the whole of the biosphere. Appreciating our true situation allows us to dwell in the body with wise detachment, at once dispassionate and tender. Enlightenment is thus informed by both meditative explorations and experimental findings. We are privileged to have access to these two sources of understanding. Dare I say we are blessed?

>> Share on Facebook
>>





The Ins & Outs of Mental Health

This a science, mental health, and spirituality blog. It says so right in the site’s header, so it must be true. Yet before now I’ve never explicitly linked the three.

Science is an analytic system that describes the world on the basis of observation, theory, and experiment. Spirituality is also based on observing, theorizing, and testing. In the former case we use physical instruments to query the external, material world; in the latter we use meditation to explore the interior space of mind.

Science would claim that mind is purely explainable on the basis of matter; religion would disagree. But for the moment let’s accept the claim that mind is a product of matter, with the proviso that we consider the shadowy quantum realm in the equation. With that step, matter contains enough ‘magic’ to account for the experiences of mystics and saints. (This is a controversial point that I’ve addressed in this earlier post, among many others.)

With this as our basis, we now recognize two legitimate modes for investigating mental life. Science looks at mind from the outside, whereas meditation looks from within. Each method has advantages and disadvantages. Although the book I mentioned last time (A Universe of Consciousness, by Edelman and Tononi), dismisses the introspective approach at the outset, this seems to me shortsighted. Fortunately, many other experts understand the value of combining interior exploration with exterior experimentation. The Dalai Lama regularly convenes gatherings of meditators and open-minded neuroscientists in order to dovetail the vast knowledge banks possessed by the two camps.

Last time I attributed the saltatory nature of personal growth to competing neural circuits. This shows how the scientific method can help us negotiate freedom from mental distress. But numerous other essays have drawn on my personal explorations of inner space through meditation. Mental health really does connect with both science and spirituality.

Why do I bother to write a whole post about this rather obvious fact? Because we are witnessing a revolution in mental health care that owes its genesis to the merging of the two realms. The best psychotherapists now stress the importance of spirituality, while the faithful increasingly turn to science to better understand human distress.

Our culture did not invent psychiatric turmoil; since the dawn of humanity people have endured pain and sorrow. And since all distress is experienced in the mind (even physical pain is mediated by the brain), all suffering can be considered a form of mental illness. The Buddha grappled with this dilemma twenty-five centuries ago, and Hindu sages worked on it even earlier. These traditions explain the workings of the mind in great detail, and also suggest how we can restructure mental processes to reduce psychic discomfort. Significantly, modern neuroscience shows layering within brain processes that is consistent with Eastern views, providing evidence that the two methods truly do investigate the same phenomena from different sides.

Combining interior knowledge with scientific understanding promises potent solutions for the pains of life. By merging science and spirituality, the mental health world is on the verge of decisively answering many psychiatric problems. My hope is that the historical antagonism between materialist and spiritualist views will not delay this welcome trend.

>> Share on Facebook
>>





The Wrestling of Two Minds


In case anyone’s wondering about my near-daily posting, rest assured it will be over soon. I’m aiming to exceed my previous record for number of essays in one month, but after November 30th (my birthday), the pace will slow. I may even take December off to give everyone a chance to catch up.

Not long ago a reader emailed me a narrative of her struggles with mood issues and painful events. What impressed me most was her eloquent capture of something I believe characteristic of maturation: inconsistent embodiment of wisdom.

As we gain insight and self-awareness, our behavior doesn’t always keep pace. We may know better than to criticize our spouse, but speak harshly anyway. We may understand how obsessing about a friend’s failure to acknowledge a gift undermines our serenity, and why true generosity makes no demands, but feel resentful even so.

These lapses alternate with times when we find it easy to forgive others and graciously give of our time and resources.

Readers can track the unevenness of growth by comparing my posts with one another. Scrolling through my archives, I see essays that celebrate realization mixed in with tracts that whine about fate. Some days I can view my life from the distant vantage of wise detachment, and other days I get lost in a muddle of mediocrity. It’s as if there are two brains in my head: one aimed at self-realization and the other at self-gratification.

This dynamic interplay between the higher and lower minds seems built into the metamorphic process. Granted, some people enjoy a single mystical experience and are forever changed, like Saint Paul on his way to Damascus. But the majority, I believe, achieve grace in fits and starts.

Zen Buddhism is comprised of two schools that differ on this point. One faction believes satori happens suddenly, jolting the practitioner into permanent enlightenment. The other expects realization to build more gradually, through long practice. Observing myself and others as we stumble toward maturity (no doubt a lesser attainment than satori) convinces me that most people climb in stepwise fashion, and at first with many backslides.

Ken Wilber distinguishes between state and stage. A person can have a profound state experience, a mystical awakening, that leaves him or her feeling radiant and enlightened for days. But sooner or later the system settles back to its habitual stage of development. Brief spontaneous elevation may accelerate personal growth by showing what’s possible, but seldom effects immediate, sustained improvement.

In my own case, I was locked in a self-centered and materialist frame of mind at age 41, when a series of breakthrough experiences transported me to an enlightened state of being. For a time I felt and acted like a happier and more generous person. But eventually I sank back into pessimistic selfishness. Only after years of contemplation and meditative practice did I grow more consistently alive to my better nature, and I still suffer many days of impoverished attitude.

I’m currently reading A Universe of Consciousness, by Gerald M. Edelman and Giulo Tononi. Edelman is a Nobel Laureate brain scientist, and the book summarizes contemporary theories about the neural mechanisms underlying mental life. He explains that the millions of circuits in the brain intertwine and feed into one another in complex and rapid cycles. Each pathway competes with its neighbors, and the ones that so-called “value” systems highlight get strengthened, while others fade away.

If we never question our thoughts and behaviors, they get rated by instinctive value systems that crave immediate gratification. We gravitate toward food, comfort, sex, and aggression. But if we intervene as thought unfolds, we can encourage healthy attitudes and discourage negative ones. We can deliberately build up maturity and wear down selfishness. This is the essence of neuroplasticity.

But make no mistake, this is life and death competition. The egocentric circuitry fights tooth and nail for its survival. It has no interest in fading quietly and would sooner destroy happiness than face dethronement. So when we are tired, distracted, or agitated, the old pathways seize the day and we act badly.

This is no cause for alarm. Many addiction experts believe that relapse is part of recovery. Occasional napping is part of awakening. At first, our eyes may only open briefly and under the most favorable circumstances. But as we work and grow, they stay open longer and in the face of greater adversity. Finally, the day comes when depression howls as loudly as mine did yesterday, but we stay alert and open to the experience. We don’t close our eyes or turn away. We don’t hurt ourselves or anyone else. We just settle into our deep core of serenity and enjoy the storm.

This pattern should be familiar to anyone who has mastered a skill of any sort. At first one executes clumsily, but as time goes on performance becomes better. And at first quality is uneven, but with practice consistency improves. When I learned oculoplastic surgery, my early cases were slower and less skillful than those that came later. And in between the beginning and expert phases passed an interval when some of my operations looked brilliant and others amateurish. Eventually, however, I acquired the ability to reliably perform procedures of high quality.

This is how we learn, whether to be surgeons, musicians, athletes, or yogis.

>> Share on Facebook
>>





The Circle of Life

An ant milking aphids. Is this a mindless robot?

Since I took the plunge and signed a lease for an acupuncture office, my blogging has again tapered off. Whatever writing I’ve managed has mostly been directed at filling my business website with content. Today my plan is to write a short piece to keep my blog alive, and I’ve decided to discuss an interesting factoid that came my way.

Although I’ve long been fascinated by invertebrates in general and insects in particular (both my undergraduate and graduate studies emphasized learning about these creatures, first their ecology and then their neurophysiology), an unusual feature of ant colonies never caught my attention until a few days ago. In their subterranean nests, ants establish separate chambers for garbage and for dead colony mates. Both types of compartments are positioned far from more active areas of the colony, and far from each other.

Why does this strike me as significant? Well, it may not be the most profound fact to base a post on, but it reminds me of how corpse burial in prehistoric (and Neanderthal) societies is considered an indication of spiritual sensibility. It is presumed to show an awakening of consciousness to the predicament of mortal life. Of course, in such interment the deceased is often surrounded by totem objects that obviously suggest a belief in afterlife or at least an attempt to assuage grief. The ants don’t take things so far, but there is no biological reason why their dead bodies shouldn’t just be tossed on the garbage heap with everything else. What evolutionary advantage accrues from separating dead companions from detritus?

This isn’t an observation that can be taken very far. I’m not suggesting that ants have deep spiritual awareness, but they do seem to view dead ants differently broken twigs or decaying leaves. Ants are highly attuned to pheromones, and their corpses no doubt smell significant. It makes sense that they would note the difference and segregate, but only if we grant that they have a certain affinity for members of their tribe relative to other organic debris.

This counters the view prevalent during my graduate days, when invertebrate nervous systems were analyzed as if they were hard-wired processors for biological robots. The idea that these animals might have quirky or even sentimental behavior was not considered. I wrote a piece last November about a spider’s will to live that touched on the same point. It seems to me that we were wrong back in the eighties when we failed to grant invertebrates a modicum of consciousness.

Perhaps all life is imbued with sensibilities similar to our own, though less elaborately developed. Perhaps care and concern arose very early in the history of living things. It might even be that an incipient love permeates every ecology as life forms interact. Perhaps the biosphere resonates with it.

Yes, this is a stretch. But with all the scientific proscriptions against anthropomorphizing, I think we have gone too far the other direction and denied sensitivity to too many living beings. Maybe if we humbled our view of humanity to admit that we are not fundamentally different from other creatures, even insects, we would also admit that we are not too different from one another. Maybe we would offer greater compassion to all other life forms, including humans far outside our local circle.

>> Share on Facebook
>>





Steal This Idea

It occurred to me this morning that my plan of writing tips for recovery is not only unoriginal, which is obvious, but may come from a very specific source. I attend meditation groups led by Rick Hanson, the author of The Buddha’s Brain. In his book and in meditations, Rick combines modern neuroscience with Buddhist contemplative practice. He also sends out a weekly email entitled ‘Just One Thing‘, i.e., just one thing you can work on each week to achieve a better frame of mind. His suggestions are practical and based on modern psychotherapeutics, brain science, and Buddhism. I really like them and suggest to others that they sign up for Rick’s service.

It wasn’t thought through on a conscious level, but I believe Rick’s work prompted me to start including ‘Tips 4 Survival on Earth’ in my blog. My background is far less impressive, my writing less organized, and my ideas less unique, but I like the idea of offering practical advice rather than philosophical musings. I’ve reached a stage where it’s become clear that the ultimate answer will always lie beyond reach. Rather than trying to figure out spirituality and life, I want to work on improving both. Hence the tips.

The tip for today, therefore, is that we should be shameless larcenists in collecting ideas that work. Not only should we learn from others, but we should spread the knowledge. Of course, whenever possible this should be done with attribution and linkbacks. But in truth pure ideas are not subject to copyright. Luckily, the legal system recognizes both the futility and inadvisability of blocking the free flow of concepts and realizations. We are fortunate that modern society is finally finding effective tools for dealing with psychic angst. Many come from ancient sources like Buddhism, but some are based on very recent research. This is reason for celebration, and it is a good time to spread the word. It turns out the bumper sticker is right: Suffering is Optional.

>> Share on Facebook
>>





Archives