WillSpirit

Where Will meets Spirit
∞ A Blog Devoted to Balance, Peace, and Clarity ∞

A formerly depressed physician tells stories of trauma, grief and recovery, and offers suggestions for emerging from darkness, living with mood swings, and awakening to life.








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    • 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 Healing Toolbox

A comment on my essay Truer than Truth, left by the author of Just Some Stuff About Life As I See It, gave me the idea for today’s post and tip for clarity. JSS spotted undeniable pitfalls in visualizing a better childhood than the one actually lived. If one were to only deal with a traumatic upbringing by imagining a better past, one would simply be in deep denial. There is little recovery to be gained by unexamined denial (though it is sometimes necessary for survival). Also, if I psychically embraced only my fictional family and not my real one, I would be rejecting the wisdom and empathy that (eventually) arose as a result of my experiences.

The trick of imagining a better past only works in the context of a large collection of practices for emotional and spiritual growth. Sometimes I find it more effective to meditate, or just contemplate, about the ways hardship shapes me. Some of my most difficult recent losses have led to unexpected gains in personal maturity and spiritual understanding, and when I feel really put upon it helps to list the positive aspects of events that sometimes seem purely negative. It can be more challenging, but just as valuable, to do the same thing with childhood trauma. I could remind myself, for instance, that going into a healing field (acupuncture) with an eye toward helping those in emotional distress is well-served by my first-person understanding of child abuse. No doubt many who come to me for help (assuming some do) will have endured abusive upbringings.

But the need for flexibility and variety in recovery goes further. If one is dedicated to living well (and this is true for both those with and without psychiatric histories), one needs to attend to the body with proper nutrition, exercise, sleep, hygiene, and health care. One needs to nurture the soul with sojourns in nature, meditation, prayer, and deep acceptance. One needs to develop the mind with readings about recovery, childhood, mental health, and many other topics relevant to growth. And finally, one needs to pleasure the heart with loving relationships, play, creativity, and beauty. There are countless ways to approach each of these categories. For instance, prayer can be spoken in church, it can be offered silently while walking or in bed, it can be sung, or it can be a simple wordless opening to the loving and creative forces of the universe. Although I am often (not always) rather atheistic in my philosophy, I still pray. Perhaps all that hears me is my unconscious mind, but isn’t it valuable to humble oneself before the deeper parts of one’s being? Isn’t this true whether or not there is an actual, listening God? Prayer is a category of tool that comes in many shapes, and can be used in many ways, by anyone.

A skilled craftsperson knows how to select the proper tools for a job, and flexibly shifts among them as he or she works. A long time ago, when I still practiced as a surgeon, I was careful to choose the appropriate instrument for each step in every procedure. As a simple, basic example, I wouldn’t use a scalpel if scissors made more sense. We are all the surgeons of our own personalities. Although events shape us, especially in childhood, we can stitch our experiences into our being in whatever way works best. With a good selection of tools for growth we can pursue healing activities and thoughts, and when we get struck by events outside our control, we can optimize interpretations and responses. If one is dedicated to personal and spiritual development, one is well-advised to put together a large toolbox of tricks to achieve balance, and to use them with creativity and flare.

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Praying for Selflessness

Prayer

Prayer draws us near to our own souls. (Herman Melville)

Last time, I made the point that (at their best) most religions promote a state of mind that dethrones ego. This elevated condition goes by many names: Christ-consciousness, selfless awareness, enlightenment, etc. Anyone following this blog knows that I have been blessed with this frame of mind off and on since mid-January.

When I am fully installed in it, my petty concerns melt away, and my heart feels full and grateful. I don’t worry about my future, or fret about my past. Criticism goes silent. In its place comes a nonverbal belief that life is acceptable in every way. Not that I’m unaware of the need for improvement; in particular, working toward greater selflessness becomes more important than ever. But life seems calmer, easier, and more beautiful.

When I give up all resistance, and settle into this accepting and loving mode, the world feels sacred. It is easy for this awesome feeling of peace to take on a religious character. The first time I experienced it, in 2000, I felt embraced by God. At one point, Jesus spoke to me, directly and in person. It was a profound religious moment that led me to convert to Catholicism.

In the years that followed, I read a lot about spiritual experiences. In particular, I educated myself about the neurological underpinnings of transcendent consciousness. I found out that there are regions in the brain (e.g., the temporal lobes) that seem to be activated during profound states. Others (e.g., the left parietal lobe) may become quiet. Learning these facts led to a series of changes in my outlook. At first, I concluded that these brain structures must be the portals through which God operates. Later, doubt crept in, and I started wondering if the experiences were simply seizure-equivalents; perhaps ‘it was all in my head’. Over time, regardless of what I believed, I settled back into egocentrism, more depressed than ever.

This year, after I again encountered Peace of Mind, I realized it doesn’t much matter whether it is a purely biological condition versus something of divine origin. These are the important points: 1) this state of mind has been experienced by many people; 2) it does not depend on any particular belief system; 3) it erases my depression whenever it is active; and 4) it makes me want to be a better person.

In Quantum Change: When Epiphanies and Sudden Insights Transform Ordinary Lives, William Miller and Janet C’de Baca describe many swift transitions from common ego-bound human neurosis, into exactly the state of grace I’m describing. The transformations felt like gifts (often in the midst of crisis) rather than earned rewards. The authors maintain neutrality about the origin of these changes, but they emphasize that many lives were permanently improved.

In my case, the improvement has not been exactly permanent; my feelings of transcendence wax and wane. A few days ago I suffered food poisoning, and selfless consciousness evaporated. Within hours I felt as miserable and depressed as ever. I’ve been working to realign myself ever since. At first I tried meditating, walking in nature, exercising, reading and writing. Nothing seemed to help.

Then I did something new: I prayed. Not to God, because my atheist upbringing makes belief in God challenging for me. I needed to pray to something that I knew existed. So I prayed to that deeper part of my mind that is so much wiser than me. I know, from firsthand experience, that something within me understands the world in a holistic way that erases anxiety and depression, so I prayed to that part of myself, and asked it to rise again. I begged my deeper ‘Spirit’ to come to the surface and take over. My ‘Will’ admitted that it was making a hash of things. It surrendered.

Praying worked: before long I felt the warmth again. I watched the anxieties fall away, the depression lighten, the smile and the love return. I found that surrendering to this deeper part of myself, through the mechanism of verbal prayer, brought me back to my center.

There are those who will believe that God must have played a part here. Why rule that out? Perhaps God is open-minded enough to accept my ego’s surrender, even if the surrender was not specifically directed toward God.

But it is also possible that this act of prayer merely allowed my deeper nature to step into the driver’s seat. My ego admitted it needed to hand off the wheel, and that allowed my heart to start directing things again.

Whatever the mechanism, the transformation was effected, and I feel more contented, more accepting, and more motivated to be a better person. Isn’t that all that matters? And if orthodox religions can bring others to this place of comfort and growth, then shouldn’t we respect them for it?

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