"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.

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.

Blogging Dante: Part 3

"Bound for the pit, this is no causeless trek."

　

Indeed it isn't. You have concrete reasons for descending into the heart of your despair. That reason is recovery.

　

"Now you can see, my son, how ludicrous

And brief are all the goods in Fortune's ken,

Which humankind contend for: you see from this

How all the gold there is beneath the moon,

Or all that there ever was, could not relieve

One of these weary souls."

　

Material possessions may fill the void temporarily--but, in the long run, they turn against you. Therapy can be bought, but at what a price!


"Fortune, like any god, foresees,
　

Judges, and rules her appointed realm. No truces

Can stop her turning...She is cursed

Too often by those who ought to sing her praises,

Wrongfully blamed and defamed."

　

Not all suffering means something. That's not to say that you can't use it as a gateway to joy.

　

"Although I come, I do not come to remain."

　

Do not tarry inside your own thoughts for too long. Let them pass, and move on ahead.

　

"So he goes away and leaves me, the gentle father,

While I remain in doubt, with yes and no

Vying in my head."

　

Do not be afraid of doubt. Doubt is healthy. Doubt heals. Go through to the other side of certainty as often as possible.

　

"This quagmire which produces

So strong a stench surrounds the city of woe

We cannot enter now except with wrath."

　

Anger is a step above depression. Do not reject it out of hand. Use it.

　

"'And I pray

You, listen'--he raised a finger at the word.

'When you confront her radiance, whose eyes can see

Everything in their fair clarity, be assured

Then you shall learn what your life's journey will be."

　

When you have descended beneath your sadness, you will discover exactly why the journey will have had been worthwhile.

　

"On every side, I heard wailing voices grieve,

Yet I could not see anyone there to wail..."

　

Some thoughts cannot be assigned a shape, or a voice. They are amorphous, ephemeral. Listen to them anyway.

　

"And I--I made my own house be my gallows."

　

Your guilt is your gallows. Slowly, painstakingly, deconstruct it, brick by brick, nail by nail.

　

"If you keep navigating by your star

You'll find a glorious port, if I discerned

Well in the fair life."

　

No matter what, follow your inner guidance. Take heed of its instructions. It's more accurate than any GPS system ever invented.

　

"I leave the bitter gall behind, and aspire

Toward the sweet fruits promised by my guide,

But first I must go downward to the core."

　

Before heaven, you must walk through hell. Walk through the core of your depression--if for no other reason than to discover what's on the other side.

　

"What your mind dreams will be before your eyes."

　

Whatever path you picture for yourself, it will materialize, often in very unexpected ways.

　

"There is a place called Malebolge in Hell...

Right in the center of this malign field yawns

A wide deep pit...

To my right side I saw new tortures, new woes,

And new tormentorrs, with whom the first ditch teemed..."


Each of us has our own Malebolge--and each of us must traverse it.


"Readying myself at the cliff's brink, I looked down

Into the canyon my master had revealed

And saw that it was watered by tears of pain:

All through the circular valley I beheld

A host of people coming, weeping but mute.

They walked at a solemn pace...

The head was twisted backwards: some cruel torsion

Forced face toward kidneys, and the people strode

Backwards, because deprived of forward vision."


Depression makes backward walkers out of us all.


"'I tell you, have no fear: it is the wretches

Who boil here that they menace--so let them grind

As fiercely as they like, and scowl their worst."

　

Let your inner demons scowl and gnash their teeth all they want. You need not take their ranting seriously.

　

"[T]he demon turned his claws

Upon his comrade and grappled him in midair

Above the fosse. But his opponent was

A full-grown hawk equipped with claws to respond

Truly and well; and as they fought, the brace

Fell into the middle of the boiling pond.

The heat unclenched them at once; but though released

They could not rise, because their wings were gummed

And clotted."

　

　

Be still, and allow your thoughts to fight it out among themselves. Then, deal with the winner. It's much easier this way.

　

　

"'To cast off sloth

Now well behooves you,' said my master then:

'For resting upon soft down, or underneath

The blanket's cloth, is not how fame is won--

Without which, one spends life to leave behind

As vestige of himself on earth the sign

Smoke leaves on air, or foam on water. So stand

And overcome your panting--with the soul,

Which wins all battles if it does not despond

Under its body's heavy weight."

　

To which you must reply:

　

"Go on, for I am strong and resolute."