"Dying to Be Me"

"I continued to sense myself expanding further and further outward, drawing away from my physical surroundings. It was as though I were no longer restricted by the confines of space and time, and continued to spread myself out to occupy a greater expanse of consciousness. I felt a sense of freedom and liberation that I'd never experienced in my physical life before. I can only describe this as the combination of a sense of joy mixed with a generous sprinkling of jubilation and happiness. It stemmed from being released from my sick and dying body, a feeling of jubilant emancipation from all the pain that my illness had caused me." -- Anita Moorjani, Dying to Be Me: My Journey From Cancer, to Near Death, to True Healing

In her remarkable memoir of sickness and recovery, Anita Moorjani narrates her journey to "the other side" after a particularly vicious bout of cancer. She experiences a glimpse of the beyond--only to return back to life, fully healed and profoundly enriched by her experience:

"Each morning, I woke up wanting to explore the world anew. Every day was a fresh adventure. I wanted to walk, drive, explore, sit on the hills and the sand, and just take in this life!...The deliciousness of each day made me feel as though I'd just been born."

What a beautiful line!...and yet...what a cruel taunt.


Yes, it is a beautiful description of a life begun anew after a near-death experience. But how many of us--stricken with depression, struggling to drag ourselves through the day--can honestly hope for such a miraculous recovery? How many of us can even imagine feeling "as though I'd just been born"?

How many of us can hope at all?


I believe that hoping for bliss, for a life after this one, is counterproductive when trying to overcome depression. It focuses our attention far beyond the present moment, projecting our wishes and dreams into a tenuous future.

The present moment is our only refuge.


Hoping for death, for an afterlife--this is precisely what the depression wants. Its goal is to drive a wedge between us and the full richness of the present-moment experience.


I don't know if an afterlife exists. I want to believe that it does, that someday our suffering simply ends and we rediscover some joyous component of ourselves we'd long given up for lost. But I also know that it is only here, now, that true healing can occur.

We must simply be, and live--now. It's all we can do.

Half a Life: Dealing With Guilt

"My internal climate was a hurricane alley. Emotions blew through, downing power lines, hefting cars onto roofs, destroying the finish. Low treas, dead wood thrown across traffic. That's the force of guilt for you." -- Darin Strauss


In Darin Strauss's remarkable memoir, Half a Life, he brilliantly describes the slow, agonizing grind of living with--and overcoming--crippling guilt.


In his case, the guilt was caused by a car accident that left a classmate dead. Though it was no fault of his, he spent nearly half his life (hence the title) coming to terms with the event.



I've come to believe that guilt is a universal experience, as quintessentially human as breathing and eating. Everyone regrets something. In Darin Strauss's case, it is a specific event; for others, it may be a more diffuse sense of human guilt over simply existing, being alive.


No emotion is as noxious, as corrosive, as destructive, as guilt. While healthy guilt (over genuine wrongdoings) reminds us not to repeat the offense again, the unhealthy variety eats us up from the inside, like acid, burning its way through the depths of our soul.


It doesn't stop until it has burned us to a crisp--or itself.


I have no easy answers. No magic pill, or self-help technique, will make your guilt disappear. I wish it were that simple, but it's not. Guilt is evil, and it HURTS, and it's quite real.


But there are ways of dealing with it. The important thing is to feel it.


Enter a meditative state in whatever way works for you. Then, open yourself to your guilt.



(NOTE: because this experience is so powerful, it is best done under the guidance of a qualified counselor)


Feel the guilt fully. Let it run its course, screaming wildly, banging its pots and pans of accusation.


Now, do something that will drive it nuts: gently, with compassion, ask it a question: "I am here. How may I be of service?"


Usually, the guilt has no idea how to respond. It flickers uncertainly, unsure of whether to continue its course of conquest or to retreat.


Then--LISTEN TO ITS ANSWER.


It may be that nothing will change. Or, suddenly, you may gain an insight into your guilt that it has been waiting to share with you. You may find something else underneath all that guilt--sadness (as in my case), or some other underlying emotion.


Or, the guilt may not change at all.


Either way, listen. Learn to respect your guilt, and to view it with compassion and love. It, too, suffers.

"Things don't go away. They become you...But we keep making our way, as we have to. We're all pretty much able to deal even with the worst that life can fire at us, if we simply admit that it is very difficult. I think that's the whole of the answer. We make our way, and effort and time give us cushion and dignity. And as we age, we're riding higher in the saddle, seeing more terrain."

The Elusive Present

"The present moment is thus not limited from one point on the clock to another. It is always 'pregnant,' always ready to open, to give birth. One has only to try the experiment of looking deeply within himself, let us say, trailing almost any random idea, and he will find, so rich is a moment of consciousness in the human mind, that associations and new ideas beckon in every direction. Or take a dream--it occurred in just one flash of consciousness as the alarm went off, yet it might take many minutes for you to tell all it pictured...Time for the human being is not a corridor; it is a continual opening out."

--Rollo May, Man's Search for Himself

Depression often makes it very difficult to remain grounded in the present moment. Instead, our ever-chattering, ever-suffering minds roam back and forth, from the past to the future and back, over and over again, like a hyperactive pendulum.

Sadly, in so doing, we miss the healing potential of the present moment.

The key, as I've come to realize--both through reading and via personal experience--is to bring the past and the future into the present.

The best way to do so is through meditation.

Bring yourself to a state of meditative awareness (in whichever way works for you)...and FEEL the past and the future. Feel them as richly as your can here, now.

Feel your yearning for an idealized distant past--or the pain of a past that you wish you could alter.

Feel your anxieties, hopes, fears, dreams of the future.

Feel both in the here and now, as fully as possible.

After a while, both the past and the future become a part of your present moment--and your mind no longer feels the need to roam. It can stay in the center of your being and, from there, survey the eternal landscape in every direction.

Healing can occur only in the present moment. So seize it fully, and be well.

Guesthouse of Despair

"Depressive psychosis is the extreme on the continuum of too much necessity, that is, of too much finitude, too much limitation by the body and the behaviors of the person in the real world, and not enough freedom of the inner self, of inner symbolic possibility. This is how we understand depressive psychosis today: as a bogging down in the femands of others--family, job, the narrow horizon of daily dutues. In such a bogging down the individual does not feel or see that he has alternatives, cannot imagine any choices or alternate ways of life, cannot release himself from the network of obligations even though these obligations no longer give him a sense of self-esteem, of primary value, of being a heroic contributor to world life even by doing his daily family and job duties." -- ERNEST BECKER

Fear of death is a normal part of life--or so Ernest Becker believed.

Sadly, for those of us who struggle daily with depression, we are afraid--all too acutely--of life.

In each of us, an insidious voice whispers alluring lies...and, far too often, we listen and nod our approval.

You are worthless.

Your guilt will haunt you forever.

You feel terrible about yourself? Good. You should.

And, the kicker:

Why don't you just DIE? The world will be better off without you.

This last one HURTS. We scramble to respond with a self-reassuring platitude to pacify the demon. It works...for a while. Then, the voice returns, twice as loud, twice as angry...twice as false.

I have come to realize that the only way to transcend the death drive is to listen to it. Get to know it, as one gets to know a temporary guest.

Bring yourself to a state of meditative awareness.

Then, listen.

This lying voice--what does it sound like? Does it whisper or shout? Is it slick, grumpy, or frothing with rage?

When does it speak to you?

LISTEN.

After a while, something truly remarkable happens. The voice grows weaker, softer, less self-assured.

Want to really drive it nuts? Then do this.

Smile...and bow to it.

At that moment, the "voice" is often so stunned that it grows silent. When it finally resumes its whispering, its former power is somehow diminished.

And you...you suddenly feel a flush of sorrow and compassion for this lonely, frightened voice deep down inside, which rages and raves simply because it is so utterly alone and terrified.

When you feel love for it...it grows quiet..

So, as Rumi enjoined, love every guest that travels through your mind--but keep both doors open. Let them pass through, and send them off with a smile.

Try it--and please, let me know how it works out!

The Heckler in the Stands

Shakespeare was right--life is a stage.

It is meant to be a grand stage, full of gaudy lights and neon signs, jesters and clowns and acrobats.

Sadly, for many of us, there is a heckler in the audience.

Depression.

Whenever we join in the merry festivities--whenever we truly live--it shouts us down.

Fortunately, the metaphor carries a grain of hope. Like others, this heckler can be dealt with.

Have you ever seen a truly talented performer deal with one? They don't lose their minds, or shout until they're red-faced. No--they use a witty, well-timed put-down that gets the audience roaring with laughter. So funny that even the heckler must laugh.

Depression is no different. Try to fight it, or shout it down, and it only grows more vicious. Lose your temper, and it wins. At least no one will upload the resulting meltdown to YouTube...hopefully.

Instead, maintain your composure. Be strong. Respond to the depression with humor and magnanimity--disarming it, while simultaneously projecting your inner resolve. Seamlessly incorporate it into your act--your life--so that it has no choice but TO SERVE YOU.

No heckler can resist that.