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.








  • 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.




Recovering

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Many people have pointed out to me that depression and spiritual growth do not exclude one another, and the fact that I keep getting this message shows that it has not yet really sunk in. Because spiritual awareness erases the bulk of my anxiety, whenever I’m in touch with it I feel incredibly free and light, and it seems like depression should vanish too. But although being more awake to the deeper structure of reality eases worry, it does not necessarily lighten sadness. If one understands the true nature of life, one realizes that most daily concerns are petty; but tragedy remains very real. If anything, transcendence heightens awareness of how living things suffer on this earth, and increased sensitivity can readily spawn depression or something like it. So on the one hand I agree: one can remain depressed and still grow in terms of conscious presence.

On the other hand, it is hard to feel truly enlightened when life seems unlivable. Embracing the reality of grief and sorrow is consistent with—and necessary for—spiritual advancement, but when one feels so oppressed by disappointment and loss that life loses all value, then one has been derailed from the spiritual path. When I gave my presentation Saturday I quoted Tom Wootton’s immortal phrase ‘Depression is Beautiful’, and I believe the words. But feeling so defeated and disgusted with one’s story that suicide sounds perfectly sane is not, I submit, a very spiritual condition. At those times, depression is anything but beautiful.

The goal has to be to feel sadness and grief, and see tragedy and injustice, but still yearn for life. Maybe the word that best describes my mood during my sickness is ‘despair’ rather than ‘depression’. In my experience, despair only leads to spiritual growth when it triggers a transformation in consciousness: in that case despair disappears. Unfortunately, my recent feelings of hopelessness have not pushed me to the point of breakthrough, and I suspect that such an easy way out will not be available to me this time around. Somehow, bit by bit, I have to rebuild belief in myself and my life.

Ten years ago I had a job that brought me status, provided a reliable income, and kept me busy. After arthritis and poor decisions ruined that situation, I’ve tried graduate school, informatics, teaching high school, public speaking, writing, and a few other minor pursuits; all ultimately led nowhere. These days no one has any reason to look up to me, my finances are crumbling, and I have far too much free time. If I could magically build a new career, many of my problems would vanish, but magic is in short supply. Many have suggested I work again as a doctor, but that would entail far more than people outside medicine realize; I would need to retrain, which means securing and completing a residency. After ten years of not working in the field, both of those steps would be challenging, to say the least. Even if I managed them, after adding in the several years post-residency required to master and get established in a field, by the time I was done I would be sixty years old. It is simply not realistic, and after the failed enterprises listed above, most other possibilities are also looking rather unlikely. I will probably need to find self-esteem that does not depend on my having productive work, at least in the short run.

On a positive note, I have recognized one important fact about my old work that seldom occurred to me before: it could be done by anyone with proper training. I was good at it, to be sure, but so were many surgeons. There was nothing about me that made me particularly suited to that work, or enabled me to do things that only I could do. Nowadays, I have a history with childhood trauma, mood disorders, and recovery that could (in theory) be leveraged into helping others in a way that would be uniquely mine. Unlike a surgical procedure, which if done well can seldom be traced to a particular surgeon, I could write or speak or in some other way produce a message that could only be delivered by me. Not that it would be better than all the other helpful sources of inspiration and advice, but it would be identifiably mine. It would be my creation and my expression.

Would writing a memoir, or speaking, or just blogging make up for the career I once had? Frankly, I doubt it. But at least I can see how the old line of work did not give me as much opportunity to express myself. Also, if I had not been through the past ten years of loss and recovery, I would not know nearly as much about the deeper currents of life as I believe I now do. So there are a couple of possibilities here that could only have arisen with the collapse of what went before.

When I can begin to see ways in which my new life offers things my old life could not, then maybe my despair will transform back into mere depression, and I can once again claim spiritual awareness. At the moment, all I can do is write about the possibility, but many times since I started this blog what I’ve written as speculation has gone on to become my reality.

Recovering was published on March 3rd, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 6 comments on this article so far.

Once More

To anyone who has missed seeing entries here, if anyone has missed them, I apologize. The severe flu that has been going around this year, or something like it, finally struck me. It has been a long time since I was so sick, perhaps not since I contracted mononucleosis in high school. Not only was it impossible to sit at the computer for more than a few minutes, but my mood gradually deteriorated over the entire two weeks until my interest in all things, including the blog, utterly vanished.

Now, fortunately, I am feeling better. A bit chagrined at having sunk so low after weeks of touting spiritual enlightenment, but whether you call my condition ‘bipolar disorder’, ‘chronic depression’, or just moodiness, it evidently far outstrips in vitality whatever transcendence I had attained. Given the opportunity of my feeling physically ill, the demons defeated the angels within days. So I’m back at the beginning, facing once again the task of reaching that point of consciousness where life makes complete sense. Whether I can get back there is not at all certain, but the alternative path—staying in a funk—is unacceptable.

The fact that I’m finally writing again, even if just briefly, is a good sign and an indication that I’m trying. I will try to get something longer posted soon.

Once More was published on March 3rd, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently no comments on this article so far.

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?

Praying for Selflessness was published on February 17th, 2010, with the tags , , , , . There are currently 6 comments on this article so far.

Religion: One Road to Selflessness

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Yesterday an editor from a philosophy magazine sent me an email. How he got my address is a mystery, since he seeks a priest, which I obviously am not. He wants an essay to counter the arguments of the ‘New Atheists’ (e.g., Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, and Daniel Dennett), specifically by advancing the thesis that religion is a positive force in modern society. Although this editor reached me by mistake, I responded to his email by suggesting an opinion piece that would address the value of nonverbal states of consciousness, and how their attainment is one of the main benefits of religious activity. Although I have not read every book by every New Atheist, it is nonetheless clear that their arguments largely neglect this important reason why humanity seeks (and needs) ’spiritual’ solutions.

A common theme in New Age philosophy is that problems arise when ‘ego’ gets out of control (Eckart Tolle, among others, does a good job of articulating this concept). More to the point, many of the most ancient spiritual systems arose after their founders discovered ways to shatter the ego-centered mind, and get in touch with selfless states of consciousness. The New Atheists often rebut claims that religions improve human charity, but I do not see them addressing the fact that religions help some people achieve a state of consciousness deeply rooted in selflessness, humility and surrender. Even if the atheists are correct, and on average religious people are no more ‘upright’ than others, it is also true that highly motivated seekers can use spiritual practice to escape the ego’s tyranny and destructiveness. Promoting the attainment of this enlightened state of mind is perhaps the most valuable function of religion, even if it often gets buried under layers of doctrine and hierarchy. Until the New Atheists recognize humanity’s need for ego-suppression, they will fail to win over many people who value spiritual development. They will simply be missing the point.

An oft-repeated New Atheist hypothesis is that religious tendencies evolved to buffer humans from a paralyzing terror of death. This viewpoint reduces spiritual aspirations to little more than fearful magical thinking. I’m often surprised to read long speculations about this proposed origin of religion from authors who claim to value ‘proof’ (and who insist their reliance on empiricism sets them apart from religions). With current information, we simply cannot know why people became religious in the course of evolution. Although fear may have played a role, it is equally likely that spiritual yearning evolved because there is survival value in remaining cognitively balanced. Individuals, families and societies suffer when people base their lives solely on the shallow concerns of the ego.

Personally, having been raised as an atheist and then trained in the western biomedical tradition, I see no need to invoke supernatural forces to explain or appreciate the universe. In that sense, I have no strong objection to the New Atheist opinions about ‘God’ and religious dogma. On the other hand, I see great value in overturning the self-absorbed mindset that is so widespread in our culture. Religion, at its best, promotes exactly this kind of transformation in people. The New Atheists, unfortunately, seem so heavily invested in linear thought that they fail to grasp the value (or even the existence) of any other type of consciousness. One does not need to be ‘religious’ to achieve a state of selfless nonverbal awareness, but it is the primary path available to most people. Because New Atheists seldom address one of the primary roles of spiritual systems, their well-argued views remain shallow and unappealing.

That, anyway, is the argument I proposed to the magazine editor who is putting together an issue about New Atheism. Since he specifically seeks a priest, I doubt he will be receptive to my suggestion. But because I believe these viewpoints to be valid, it makes sense to post them here, in the only forum readily available to me.

Religion: One Road to Selflessness was published on February 14th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.

First Love

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After perusing a variety of texts about spiritual growth, I better understand the universality of my recent stirring mind states. This perspective helps, because it is easy to get carried away after numinous experiences. Hopefully, visitors will forgive my naïve enthusiasm and beginner’s ignorance.

It is no secret that profound experiences have blessed many people around the world and throughout human history. Those committed to spiritual paths devote their lives to seeking and exploring such epiphanies, and no doubt enjoy far greater understanding, equanimity, and wisdom than I ever will. My purpose here is only to describe my particular journey, and perhaps offer hope to others burdened with chronic depression. The most important fact of my ‘breakthrough’ is that it has swept away most of my misery. Even when I stumble and feel defeated for a few days, the memory of a better place remains, and the ease with which I exit the darkness astounds me. Six months ago my plan was to learn how to live a full life in spite of depression. That I would ever be completely free of it, even temporarily, seemed impossible. Before, in my best frames of mind, there remained patches of depression that threatened me with shade, like scattered clouds on an otherwise sunny day. Now I spend the majority of my time feeling light and balanced, with no ominous darkness on the horizon. And when depression does descend it doesn’t linger, it leaves behind no shadow, and while it lasts I appreciate its solemn beauty (most of the time, at least).

The Varieties of Religious Experience, by William James, is familiar to many western seekers of spiritual growth. The book describes the vast range of spiritual frames of mind, and the large variety of ways we reach them. Sometimes a person achieves transcendence after years of meditation, study, and intention. Spiritual awareness accumulates gradually as the result of such effort, with progress punctuated by moments of sudden growth. But a life of seeking is not required. Not infrequently, a person ‘awakens’ in the aftermath of catastrophic stress or after collapse into utter despair. Crisis and failure offer us the opportunity to give up the fight and drop all barriers. The reward can be a flood of clarity, acceptance, and universal love.

If I were to classify my current situation, it would fall between those extremes. Although I have certainly not devoted my life to a quest for meaning, I nonetheless have been studying and searching. And despite a decade of bad luck, nothing in the past year has been particularly awful, nor did my ego disintegrate in an acute moment of hopelessness.

The nature of my recent spiritual experiences also lies between extremes. Ten years ago a series of ‘visions’ transported me into a mood of wide-eyed ecstasy, a kaleidoscope of marvelous sensory experiences, and a conviction that I had seen and spoken with God. A more magnificent and soul-quaking episode would be hard to imagine. However, much of the mental content was unbalanced, irrational, or poorly grounded. Although the clarity and salience of recent weeks equaled those of the earlier episode, they were not accompanied by ecstasy or hallucinations. As I’ve discussed, strictly supernatural beliefs played no role. Instead, what I know to be true about how the world is structured and how my life has unfolded took on a new light. Every particle of my mind understood that the universe is both dispassionately random, and lovingly numinous. This sounds paradoxical when stated in words, but from a state of exquisite nonverbal awareness, it made perfect sense. This solidly sane sacred experience felt just as profound as the arguably insane ‘religious visions’ of a decade earlier. But it was a little less intense, and was free of ‘delusional’ and ‘hallucinatory’ content.

Looking at the other end of the spectrum, I’ve explored mindfulness meditation for some years, and the recent ‘awakenings’ felt akin to the state of wordless peace that comes with such practice. The way I felt intensely ‘alive’, for instance, mirrored the way mindfulness brings one in touch with one’s body and sensory surroundings without the intervening filter of the verbal mind. In fact, three days ago it was a combination of meditation and acupuncture that returned me (for a whole afternoon) to the frame of resonant clarity that began with my spiritual retreat in January, and which is becoming more and more familiar. But the psychic impact of my recent moments of understanding exceeded that of even the deepest meditative states I’d previously achieved.

Experienced practitioners probably read my descriptions with a bit of amusement. I must sound like an adolescent who has just discovered sensual romantic love, and thinks he or she has stumbled on something personal and exceptional, when in fact it is universal and expected. But even if everyone else already knows about such love, it’s new to the teenaged romantic, and soul-penetrating clarity is new to me. So I hope those further along this path will indulge my childlike wonder.

First Love was published on February 11th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

Try, Try Again

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Those visitors who expressed reservations about the finality of my spiritual enlightenment had just cause for concern. For two weeks after my supposed awakening, a newfound clarity made life easy and rewarding. Thoughts of helping seemed natural, and I enjoyed abundant energy for my mission of guiding others away from depression. But then reality intruded on my peace. My wife and I live adjacent to San Francisco Bay, very close to sea level. As rainy weather continued for weeks, I began to hate the damp cold. When the sun wasn’t obscured by rain clouds, it shone only dimly through a low shroud of mist, and the shadowy light began to get me down. Unwisely, I discontinued one of my medications after months of slow tapering. Prompted by someone else’s comment, which had little to do with my situation, I became obsessed with futile thoughts of reentering medicine. And then there was the lukewarm (at best) reception of my new ideas about how to alleviate depression; no one in either my day-to-day life or on the internet seemed particularly interested. It turned out to be more than my fragile psyche could bear.

The low feelings were tolerable for about a week. During that time my thinking remained balanced, and I patiently waited for the cycle to play itself out. I endeavored to meditate consistently and stay centered. But finally the downward pressure on my spirits overcame me. Yesterday it took all my strength just to drag myself to the gym for thirty minutes. As used to be routine, I found myself wondering, “what’s the point?” Having sunk to this level frustrated me all the more because I know better. What happened to my insights into the true nature of human life? Where went the new alignment of my priorities? Meditating on the unity and rightness of the cosmos brought only temporary wisdom and peace. By yesterday the depression had progressed into a suicidal realm. I simply could not let go of obsessions about my flawed personality, my lack of productivity, my chronic isolation, and my unpromising future. Self. Self. Self.

It would be nice to say everything feels fine today. I would love to announce that selflessness has returned with the same forceful clarity as before; certainly, I am closer that goal. But it’s an uphill battle. It makes me revisit my old conviction that a chemical imbalance contributes to my unhappiness. Perhaps there are depressed corners in my brain that ego suppression won’t always reach. I resist that conclusion for now, and continue to work on regaining that thrilling and heartfelt understanding of my true nature. I hope to reconnect with my recent, stirring awareness of the transience of my problems, and the importance of altruism. If intention is enough, I will get better. Things do seem a little lighter today.

Of course, today the sun also shines outside my window, and I enjoy a nice view of water, wetlands, and little Mt. Burdell in the distance. That alone helps alleviate the heaviness. (The picture heading this post was taken through my window just now, in late afternoon light.)

It’s a good sign that I’m here writing. For several days there seemed to be little point. Even with my posts occasionally appearing at PsychCentral, there has been scant evidence to suggest that my message is catching on. For several days before today, every session at the computer ended with the thought, “why bother?” I felt overwhelmed by the fact that blogs are inefficient at attracting readers, and the necessity of delivering my message on Facebook instead. That site doesn’t appeal to me, and the idea of aggressively finding ‘friends’ is unpleasant, to say the least. I’ve toyed with abandoning writing on the internet altogether.

But now I’m back. It helps to let go of all attachment to ‘carrying a message’. Soon after my transcendent experiences, it seemed absolutely vital for me to spread the word that depression can be lightened by escaping ego dominance. Today, I can accept that my role may simply be to enjoy the fruits of that truth. I am more able to accept that I may lack the personality, skills and energy needed to educate others. In fact, right now it feels like I’m under a spiritual mandate to experience exactly these limitations, without resistance. It is an important, though painful lesson.

It comes with an interesting twist. I see more than the mere acceptance of failure; I understand the need to keep trying in spite of it.

Try, Try Again was published on February 6th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 16 comments on this article so far.

Experience to Exegesis

Proton Hugging Quarks

Recent posts have alluded to the ‘awakening’ I experienced during the middle part of January. Perhaps you have noticed that details have been slow in coming. The episode had such impact, and seemed so special, that I’ve wanted to savor and assimilate it before taking the risk of describing it badly. How could I possibly do it justice? If it is not entirely beyond words, it will certainly be reduced by them. So please forgive the hesitance with which I am spelling it out.

Not only do I have trouble describing what happened, I can’t even categorize it properly. In terms of emotional impact, it had much in common with the ‘psychosis’ that overwhelmed my mind in 2000. At that time, my universe came alive with divine forces and holy beings. Afterwards, everyone around me suffered through long descriptions of what I called ‘my religious visions’. Because the amazing sights, sounds, and feelings had seemed to be the handiwork of supernatural agencies, I believed them ’spiritual’ in every sense of the word. What happened this January had the same emotional impact, but the causes seemed different. Whereas before I heard holy voices and met divine spirits, this time nothing supernatural seemed to be at play. I felt a profound connection with my surroundings, and enjoyed a penetrating clarity about my true condition as a human being. But I did not hear, feel, or see any gods or angels. My thinking did not go in that direction at all.

So was this experience ’spiritual’, or not? Consider that it: 1) made me exquisitely aware of the profuse (and unarguable) connections between all life forms; 2) showed me my insignificance in the face of a vast and mysterious cosmos; 3) helped me recognize that the universe is perfect in its own way; and 4) reminded me of what a privilege it is to be a witness. Because I felt both humbled and absorbed by the cosmos, and because the universe struck me as exactly ‘right’, the episode counts as an awakening. And yet everything that I saw and felt, or that comforted me, came from either scientific knowledge or day-to-day experience. Whatever happened cannot be labelled ’secular’, because it felt so numinous. But it did not seem supernatural, either. Can it be called ’spiritual’ if it did not involve ’spirits’?

My awakening can be described as a ’sacred’ experience, even if it was not a strictly spiritual one. Although dictionary definitions of ’sacred’ mostly relate to ‘God or gods’, there is also the meaning: ‘highly valued or important’. In that sense, I found myself recognizing how we inhabit a sacred universe, where every particle holds tremendous significance. Which, if you think about it, is not much of a stretch. For the simplest example, isn’t it spectacular that protons exist? And that they comprise even smaller particles called quarks, which evidently contain even smaller things of some sort (strings?). With my awakened state of mind, these momentous truths almost overwhelmed me. I was awestruck by the enormity of my surroundings, and yet I felt both absorbed and supported by them. The universe was not somehow separate from ‘me’, and I could find no objective boundary between the outside world and my inner mind. I also had absolute confidence that there are no flaws in the cosmos. Everything is as it must be. Although the reality of tragedy remained quite clear, I saw that in the larger scheme of things, it is unavoidable. Hardship is inseparable from life. In short, I knew the universe to be profound, one with me, and perfect.

Later, as the impact of this experience hit home, I found an entirely new attitude toward life. No longer obsessed with my small inner concerns, I now have much more appreciation of the larger, outer world. My depression and anxiety have lightened to the point where they hardly deserve those names any longer. Not that I feel giddy or supremely ‘happy’. An undertone of sorrow can still be heard anytime I slow down and listen. But it is a special kind of sadness, with an almost inexpressible, sorrowful majesty. Everything in this universe, including my depression, holds beauty of one kind or another.

Not only was my experience ’sacred’, therefore, it was also transformative. After years of very slow and incremental change, I found myself leaping over barriers that had seemed insurmountable and permanent just a week earlier. My mental health jumped to a new plateau. There is room for a great deal more growth and maturity, of course, but I made more progress in January than in the entire decade between 2000 and 2010.

Having been granted a sacred, transformative awakening that followed specific actions and contemplations, I suspect that something in my experience might assist others. My first obligation, and the one way I might be able to help, is to write.

Experience to Exegesis was published on January 29th, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.

Where next?

WhereNext

Recent posts have, hopefully, demonstrated big changes in my mindset and emotional stability. A profound awakening has lifted me out of my rut and set me on a new path. But where is this new road headed?

For the past thirty years I’ve worked to overcome chronic depression, and other emotional challenges. There have been some successes, and some excited moments, but low moods have remained stubbornly clamped over my heart. Twenty years ago, attendance at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings convinced me to look for a ’spiritual’ solution. I toyed with Buddhism, but ended up in the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers, which had been the spiritual heritage of my maternal ancestors. Since it demands few doctrinal beliefs, it fit me well. But although I attended countless Meetings for Worship, and many weekend retreats, my so-called spirituality remained an intellectual exercise. I liked the idea of deeper forces in the cosmos, but I never felt connected with anything more than curiosity.

Ten years ago I enjoyed my first set of spiritual breakthroughs, during a diagnosed ‘psychotic episode’. Some of them had a Christian theme, which prompted my conversion to Roman Catholicism. After five years or so, my glowing convictions about Christ faded back into the atheism of my upbringing. Once again, I found myself in need of a spiritual home, only now it seemed clear that lasting belief in supernatural concepts was beyond me. Even with another try, Buddhism remained a poor fit for my personality and philosophy. Tenets about reincarnation would have been easy to sidestep as a Western Buddhist, but the emphasis on reason, although laudable, reminded me too much of science. Rigid scientific thinking seemed to be part of my problem.

Two weeks ago I had my second series of spiritual breakthroughs. During them, ideas that had been building in my mind for many years coalesced into an empirically based worldview, but one that did not rely on scientific reasoning. It came to me by wordlessly, without resistance, embracing known facts about what it means to be a human. After the epiphany blossomed, I pulled out the book, 365 Tao by Deng Ming-Dao and read a few random pages. To my amazement, the texts articulated a worldview nearly identical to the one that had flooded me after years of struggle. The book had been buried in my little home library the entire time, but I had never opened it before. (Although I had often meditated on the shorter and more cryptic Tao Tse Tung.) There were minor differences in perspective, but in essence the end result of all my grappling had been on my bookshelf the entire time. Taoism seems to have roots deep in a receptive awareness of nature. I reached my similar frame of mind through opening myself, without resistance and with as little ‘thought’ as possible, to the awesome sweep of proven biology and physics (it’s no coincidence that I have a Master’s degree in biophysics).

Taoism is based on an abstract idea (The Tao) that stands for an all-encompassing, endlessly mysterious, and deeply consistent animating principle. There is little if anything blatantly supernatural, at least not in the little Taoism I’ve read so far. My experience remains hard to articulate, but it came from taking all my knowledge of our physical and biological nature, and allowing it to sweep through my heart. Doing so prompted a soul-saturating awareness of the ‘rightness’ and ‘interconnectedness’ of creation.

It needs to be emphasized that I don’t rule out the possibility of overtly supernatural phenomena such as ‘God’ or reincarnation. However, I learned that such beliefs are not needed to support a spiritual awakening every bit as profound as my one of ten years earlier, at which time the idea of God had been central.

When I began my spiritual journey, it would have been impossible to predict that it would end like this. All I could do was stumble blindly until the pieces fell in place. Possibly, I could have picked up 365 Tao a decade ago, and been spared the struggle. But it is more likely that the words would have remained veiled until a designated and unpredictable moment when my eyes were opened.

It is hard to overstate the value of the awareness that has come to me. It has melted away my petty, egoistic concerns. It has given me faith that the universe is benign, and that despite the inevitable traumas of life, I will be safe. It has prompted me heart to literally ache with the desire to help others find peace. It has swept away decades of depression and cynicism. And it only invokes truths that most rational and educated people would accept.

So what is my next obligation? Where do I go from here?

Where next? was published on January 28th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 10 comments on this article so far.

The Rational Wings of Faith

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In light of my recent awakening the mystical seems thoroughly mixed with the mundane. Even ’secular’ mental health topics now lead me beneath the paving stones of structured thought. It has become obvious that everything ordinary is a bit magical, and everything magical is a bit ordinary. There is something beyond understanding in the simple fall of a raindrop, while the prosaic rhythm of our hearts paces the most profound religious moments.

‘Magic’, as used here, refers to things the logical mind discounts. These include connections that can’t be proven, wisdom without worldly value, and love as a guiding principle. It helps to embrace such things if we seek faith, but we do not need to invoke blatantly supernatural forces. My awakening demonstrated that spiritual connection does not require belief in phenomena that violate the normal patterns of events. And for the record, ’spiritual connection’ can be coarsely described as awareness that the self is small, and that the universe is meaningful and alive with interdependence.

There are countless paths that lead to openness. Many find faith in a supreme deity, but those without such beliefs can still experience deep and universal connections. (Note that faith is available without theistic convictions, but this by no means rules out a creative, omniscient God.) Traditional Buddhism relies on the expectation of reincarnation; commitment to escaping the cycle of rebirth motivates the entire practice. But meaningful peace can be achieved without these tenets, whether reincarnation occurs or not. In fact, no specific set of beliefs is essential to feeling supported by the currents of mystery.

My uncompleted series of spiritual essays were put forward to counter (seemingly) rational obstructions to feeling connected with deep forces. Fervent materialists, for instance, base their views on narrow interpretations of scientific findings. A broader look at established facts can undermine such arguments. The series’ goal was to counteract resistance caused by rigid and false reasoning.

After writing out ideas that had been accumulating for years, I awakened to some simple but profound truths. If our egos did not keep us in blinders, I realized, we would better appreciate the magic of life. We would know that we live in the midst of a blossoming miracle. We would feel how matter, energy, and consciousness evolve and intertwine all around us. At first, this direct experience made me think my rational arguments had been superfluous and unnecessary. Why even bother with the ego’s petty objections, when the truth is so elegant and apparent?

Then my transcendent awareness receded. Although vivid memories remain, direct experience is elusive. This proves what spiritual pilgrims have always found: discrete ecstatic moments, while valuable, are not enough. One must make ongoing efforts to remain open. In Achieving Enlightenment the Dalai Lama talks of two types of meditation. In the ‘analytical’ kind, one uses reason to explore truth, which then informs meditations that set thought aside. So using the mind to investigate the validity, source and meanings of faith might actually be a useful practice. Combined with quiet sitting and altruistic efforts, it might help a person (like me) stay spiritually centered. So why not continue the series?

A new motivation to proceed with my spiritual project is also apparent. After my recent awakening, depression that had tormented me for decades lost power. My heart remains at peace, even though I continue to feel bodily sadness, ancient grief, and shadows of trauma. Moods still ebb and flow, and dark clouds still roll across my mental landscape, but my core feels safe because of faith. In essence, by breaking down my ego, and embracing deeper realities, my soul attained abiding serenity.

Importantly, my soul-shaking experience arose without belief in anything blatantly supernatural. No supreme deity, no reincarnation, no disembodied spirits. (Again, I am not saying any religious principles are wrong; only that they are unnecessary to effective faith.) Rational ideas about creation, and looking at my situation with clarity and perspective, opened me to a wordless experience of cosmic unity.

The significance cannot be overstated. Faith that arose alongside a strict belief in science led to mental health. Psychotherapy (including CBT and ACT), 12-step programs, and self-help books helped get me ready to change. But experiential faith, based on logically supportable thought provided wings that lifted me away from the gravity of my suffering. Since others might find peace along this path, my story must be told.

Growth might have been easier within an established religion. But an atheist upbringing and years of scientific training blocked me from becoming a convinced Christian, Buddhist, or anything else. Those traditions and others informed me, but left me short of my goal. Do many besides me desire faith, but feel blocked by rational objections? It’s hard to say. And whether my ideas will help is also unknown. But the same feeling of connection that shook me awake prompts me to resume the series.

The Rational Wings of Faith was published on January 26th, 2010, with the tags , , , . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.

Escaping the Ego’s Web

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Regardless of one’s beliefs about the existence of transcendent realms, human beings need something akin to spirituality to counteract ego dominance. Religious systems encourage humility in order to bring practitioners out of self, and into appreciation of a larger reality. People argue about ‘God’, and obsess about whether we live in a purely material world versus one with mystical foundations. But debates about the nature of the cosmos, while fascinating and important, could be sidestepped if there were an easy way to escape the ego’s tyrrany.

Although I know only a little about philosophy, my understanding of evolution is a bit more sophisticated. Recently, I read the textbook Animal Behavior, by John Alcock, which looks at the subject from an evolutionary perspective. It rounded out ideas that first came my way through Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Despite the rudimentary abilities of certain apes, only humans employ verbal, rational, and linear thought. Predictive skills and long-range strategizing appear to have evolved only recently. Other animals have minds of some sort, but they must work differently from ours. Anyone with a dog knows it has desires, and abilities to communicate them. A dog is good at getting humans to provide what it wants. But one of the wonderful things about canine pets is their lack of guile. They don’t plan, manipulate, deceive, or ‘think’ long term. Those are uniquely human qualities. Although animals have very complicated, and even flexible, behaviors, they do not have complex thinking. Such cognition is a new development on earth.

ACT starts with the premise that we suffer from overactivity in the ‘newer’ parts of the brain, which generate complex and abstract thinking. Adept at describing, comparing, predicting, and judging, the human thought apparatus has proven its strengths in developing technology. From stone tools to agriculture to industrialization to the internet, our cognition has created the sophisticated and tangled culture we see today. For all our mastery of nature, however, we have lost control of our selves. Unless we deliberately nurture other mental abilities, we remain locked in rational thought. Even when we face no immediate dilemma, we fail to revert to the wise and ancient modes that served our animal ancestors for eons. We persist in judging and predicting even when there is little need. Many of us get trapped in obsessions, overwhelmed by anxiety, or crushed by regret. When these conditions become chronic, we start diagnosing mental illness. Although it sometimes destroys us, we cannot easily turn off what ACT calls the ‘thought machine’.

When a person quiets the ceaseless patter of thought, and experiences a bit of silent presence, peace arises. As older and wiser parts of the mind come to the fore, problems seem less complicated and less pressing. With practice, one can combine mindfulness with acceptance, and begin to align with the mind’s nonrational forces. During the past year an ACT therapist helped me make progress in those directions. But by itself this failed to displace my ego from its throne; although life became a bit easier, my judgments remained rapid and harsh. At best I enjoyed a few seconds of serenity, before the machine of criticism stormed back into control. For some people, exercises in meditation, tolerance, and value-seeking will suffice to attain lasting peace of mind. But for me, with my habit of pessimism and negativity, something more was required.

Enter spirituality. Whereas Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT) teaches how to think less negatively, and ACT persuades the judging mind to relax its grip, religion works by appealing to deeper regions of the brain. By helping us feel the presence of forces larger than humanity, they give the older parts of the mind enough strength to reassert their rightful place in the human psyche. In the West, this has been accomplished by appeal to a unified God. In the East, there has been more emphasis on awakening the heart to the vast scale and depth of creation. The spiritual awakening alluded to in the last post arose from a more Eastern than Western way of seeing things. Regardless of its philosophical heritage, the awakening of my deeper spirit has forced my ego to share the stage. Although the cloud of depression remains, it no longer colors my entire world view. I can feel the low moods percolating, and yet remain open to the beauty of life. The improvement results from a newfound ability to see my ego’s judging stance from a broader perspective. I understand there are other ways of understanding the world, and that I can live without weighing and evaluating everything. An atmosphere of equality has replaced the scales of judgment.

Whatever works. Some will rationally understand the value of escaping the ego’s web, and with that knowledge, break free. Others require an omnipotent deity to shake them loose. Still others will find release by meditating on the subterannean connections between the mind and the cosmos. Using the term loosely, all represent forms of spirituality, in that they release the human spirit from the prison of the human mind.

Escaping the Ego’s Web was published on January 24th, 2010, with the tags , , . There are currently 4 comments on this article so far.