A Spiritual Connection

I went to a doctor and told him I felt normal on acid, that I was a light bulb in a world of moths. That is what the manic state is like.

Carrie Fisher

There is scientific proof that meditation has the ability to change a person’s brain chemistry over time.  Despite this compelling information, many people still refuse to give it a try.  This is not unlike the statistic that bipolar people are the least likely to take their medication of any group with mental illness.  All of us tend to prefer what we know, because it is comfortable.  The unknown can be scary, or just too much effort.  Though bipolar people make up 1% of the population, they make up 20% of those who commit suicide.  One would think that suicidal thoughts would motivate change, but sadly that is not always the case.

A person’s brain drives them to depression, anxiety or mania.  By changing the way a person’s brain works, meditation relieves and balances a person’s sad or racing thoughts.  It is very easy to start meditating.  There are apps, like buddhify or podcasts and of course, countless books.  Like prayer, all it takes is the simple act of trying.  There is no right or wrong way to do it.  With a little guidance, it’s impossible to mess up.

Addiction provides another example of human beings’ counterintuitive thinking.  Many people who struggle with addiction have a lot of evidence to support quitting and yet, they do not.  Drugs and alcohol alter a user’s brain chemistry by over-stimulating the nucleus accumbens, or the pleasure center.  The pleasure center floods the brain with dopamine.  It is the same part of the brain that activates during sex or gambling.  The problem with the pleasure center is that it requires ever increasing amounts of stimulation in order to produce the same good feeling.  This is why people have to consume more and more of a drug in order to attain the same high.

On the other hand, there is an altruism center in the brain, called the posterior superior temporal sulcus.  It cannot operate in conjunction with the pleasure center.  It takes very little to activate and the amount of stimulation needed stays consistently low over time.  All it takes for the posterior superior temporal sulcus to make a person feel good is the knowledge that one is helping another person.

Thus, meditating and doing good deeds are scientifically proven to make a person feel good.  Also, it doesn’t take an ever increasing amount of these things to produce the same effects.  People are flawed by nature, impeding them from seeking out these simple behaviors.  The world’s religions and spirituality in general help people to reprogram their brains to feel happiness by praying and helping others.  Left to one’s own devices unhappiness, or worse may take over.  A spiritual connection is the key to living a happy life.  

What the Hell?

“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.” 
― William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

The biggest obstacle I overcame in order to arrive at my now happy spiritual beliefs, was the concept of Hell.  Prior to now, I very much resented Religion insisting that people who didn’t follow a set of arbitrary and exclusive seeming rules would suffer excruciating pain for all eternity.  It didn’t make sense to me that a loving God would allow such a thing.  Instead of drawing me nearer to God, all talk about Hell drove me further away. 

I literally had to go to Hell, before realizing that Heaven was also a real place.  For me, doing drugs and living in an abusive relationship was Hell.  My ex however, told me that he wished he was a vampire.  While I found the drug culture to be scary and pathetic, he thought it was exhilarating and hip.  My personal Hell, was his choice of an ideal lifestyle.  I chose to leave and found happiness in a vastly different set of circumstances.  If my idea of Hell is somebody else’s preferred way of life, then it boils down to a question of perception.  Whereas getting up everyday at 5 am to prepare for a 9-5 day of work and parenting two young children could very well be somebody else’s version of Hell, to me its fulfilling and rewarding.  William Blake wrote about Heaven and Hell to illustrate exactly this point.  According to him, Hell is a state of mind, rather than an actual place.  For him, Heaven was a stuffy place that stifled creativity and Hell was the place where artist’s and freethinkers went to get away from the rule makers. 

The idea of Hell as a tangible burning lake of fire can be traced back to BC Jerusalem and the Valley of Hinnom. It was the town dump that had to be set on fire regularly for public health reasons. What’s more, the bodies of executed criminals were also burned and then set on the dump.  The Jewish oral tradition attributed this place as a figurative version of Hell.  This then carried over to the Greek bible, where the name changed to “Gehenna” and next was eventually translated as Hell in the New Testament. The images of fire and flames were further developed by the witch burnings in the middle ages.   The collective consciousness was infused with the images of heretics and blasphemers burning on public display.  

Modern Day Valley of HInnom

   There are only a few actual passages that mention or describe Hell in the Bible and they are all very vague.  Pope John Paull II clarified, saying that Hell is a state of being.   According to him, Hell was total and complete separation from God.  While taking drugs, I have experienced something that I imagine to feel like that and it was excruciating.  However, other people I was with on the same drugs were experiencing euphoria.  To make it through, I instinctively prayed and meditated, while others enjoyed the ride. 
I now pray and meditate to make it through my daily life sober.  Yet many people live their lives seemingly fine without a relationship with God.  Would they go to Hell?  The Bible actually does say yes, but what exactly is Hell?  That is the Question.      

Just Pray -Hinduism and Eat Pray Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert

Hinduism is the World’s oldest Religion and it’s also the wisest, in my opinion.  There is a good reason why the word guru has entered everyday vocabulary as synonymous with someone who knows it all.  The more closely I examine the World’s religions, the more similarities I find.  The major Christian and Jewish moveable feasts are metaphorically the same as their earlier Greek equivalents.  Also, I see a lot of room for theology in the field of quantum physics and that discipline’s quest to explain how the universe works.  When it comes to Religion, I don’t think that people should have to choose a side and then insist that other groups are wrong.  Being human means that it is not possible to have all of the answers.  The Hindus have long recognized this and for that I believe they are incredibly wise. 

In her book, Eat, Pray, Love, author Elizabeth Gilbert takes 1 year off from work to travel the globe and find herself.  During the middle 4 months of her twelve month sabbatical, she resides in an Indian ashram learning how to meditate.  After reading Gilbert’s book, I studied Hinduism and found that it closely resembles the mystical factions of all three of the major monotheistic religions, Gnosticism in Christianity, Kabbalah in Judaism and Sufism in Islam.  Knowing that Carl Jung was a devotee of Gnosticism and the many Hollywood celebrities, like Madonna and Ashton Kuchner practiced Kaballah, I was further intrigued.  In mystical religions, like Hinduism, it is believed that the purpose of life is to experience God directly.  Contact with a higher power is achieved by praying or meditating.  Here is what Elizabeth Gilbert wrote about her experience finding God:

I don’t want to say that what I experienced that Thursday afternoon in India was indescribable, even though it was.  I’ll try to explain anyway.  Simply put, I got pulled through the wormhole of the Absolute, and in that rush I suddenly understood the workings of the universe completely.  I left my body, I left the room, I left the planet, I stepped through time and I entered the void, all at the same time.  The void was a place of limitless peace and wisdom.  The void was conscious and it was intelligent.  The void was God, which means that I was inside God.  But not in a gross, physical way – not like I was Liz Gilbert stuck inside a chunk of God’s thigh muscle.  I just was part of God.  In addition to being God.  I was both a tiny piece of the universe and exactly the same size as the universe. ¶It wasn’t hallucinogenic, what I was feeling.  It was the most basic of events.  It was heaven, yes.  It was the deepest love I’d ever experienced, beyond anything I could have previously imagined, but it wasn’t euphoric.  It wasn’t exciting.  There wasn’t enough ego or passion left in me to create euphoria and excitement.  It was just obvious.  Like when you’ve been looking at an optical illusion for a long time, straining your eyes to decode the trick, and suddenly your cognizance shifts and there – now you can clearly see it! – the two vases are actually two faces.  And once you’ve seen it, you can never not see it again. ¶ “So this is God,” I thought.  “Congratulations to meet you.” (199)

In Hinduism, yoga and meditation are spiritual practices like praying or going to Church in Christianity.  Gilbert details her struggles to still her mind and uses humor to describe her frustration.  Yoga may have a reputation for being a light workout, but it requires a lot of mental effort and discipline.   One must also have the willingness to cultivate the inborn spark of the divine. 

Hinduism also incorporates many of the same principles as physics.  The idea of karma is much like Newton’s law of motion, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  If you are putting forward good acts, then you end up happy and content.  If you put forth negativity, then that is what surrounds you.  Also, the Hindu conception of time and space fits perfectly with current beliefs of physicists, for example, in Hinduism space and time continue backwards and forwards in infinite dimensions.   Another similarity between Christianity and Hinduism is that there is a God who took on a human form in both faiths.  The Baghagavad Gita, one of Hinduism’s spiritual texts, is one long conversation between two mortals, Krishna, God in human form and Arjuna, who represents all of humanity.  At one point, Arjuna asks Krishna to show him the true nature of God.  When Krishna complies, Arjuna immediately begs him to stop, because he can not handle the complexity of what he sees.  Krishna then promises Arjuna that there is no reason to be afraid, as long as he believes in God.   

Hindus do not believe in an eternal damnation, but there is a concept of Hell, which is related to the idea of karma.  Gilbert spends the final third of her year in Bali, which is also a Hindu country.  There she studies under a medicine man named Ketut.  In the following passage they discuss Heaven and Hell:

But here Ketut was talking about heaven and hell in a different way, as if they are real places in the universe which he has actually visited.  At least I think that’s what he meant.

Trying to get clear on this, I asked, “You have been to hell, Ketut?”

He smiled. Of course he’s been there.

“What’s it like in hell?”

“Same like heaven,” he said.

He saw my confusion and tried to explain. “Universe is a circle, Liss.”

I still wasn’t sure I understood.

He said. “To up, to down – all same, at end.”

I remembered an old Christian mystic notion: As above, so below. I asked. “Then how can you tell the difference between heaven and hell?”

“Because of how you go.  Heaven, you go up, through seven happy places.  Hell, you go down, through seven sad places.  This is why it is better for you to go up, Liss.  He laughed.

 I asked, “You mean, you might as well spend your life going upward, through the happy places, since heaven and hell – the destination – are the same thing anyway?”

“Same-same,” he said. “Same in end, so better to be happy on journey.”

I said, “So, if heaven is love, then hell is…”

“Love, too,” he said

Some argue that Heaven and Hell are figurative terms that refer to states of being while alive.  Hindus do believe in an afterlife and there are seven layers of heaven and seven layers of hell, much like what is described in Dante’s Inferno.  In Hinduism, however, Hell is not permanent and there is always a chance of redemption.   For me this is the most important difference between Christianity and Hinduism, the permanence of Hell.  Otherwise, both Christianity and Hinduism aim to know God and then act according to a moral code in order to reach Heaven.  As Ketut says, it’s better to know God and be happy on the journey.  As for Hell being Love, anyone who’s lived through a toxic relationship could attest to the validity of that statement.

Don't Stress - Meditate

Many new scientific studies show a positive correlation between Meditation and recovery from Mental Health disorders, such as Schizophrenia and severe depression.  Not only are meditative practices beneficial for those with mental illnesses, but they have also been shown to greatly benefit everyone.  Ritualized meditation is found in every major religion.  Other studies have shown that mental patients with a meaningful religious affiliation show better recovery rates than those who identify as atheist.  Similarly, among people who are not mentally ill, those who practice some form of spirituality are more likely to be in better overall physical and mental health than those who do not.  Meditation aims to aid the practitioner in gaining control over one’s natural inclination towards negativity and despair. “Mastering the mind requires freeing it from automatic mental conditioning and inner confusion.”  Mind of the Meditator Meditating changes the brain’s make-up, enlarging and strengthening the parts that positively impact mental and physical health.  Meditation is at the base of eastern medicine’s, ‘mind over matter’ approach.  Regular meditation helps an individual manage stressful situations as they arise, thus not allowing stress to wreak havoc on the body.  Stress is an important cause of many chronic disesases like cancer, obesity, heart disease and high blood pressure. 

In contemporary US society, people face rigorous demands on a constant basis.  Due to the Recession people are doing jobs that used to get done by 2 or even 3 people.  Also, both parents often work, so doing household chores, plus shuttling the kids around or doing homework add yet more stress during precious off-hours.  Knowing how to manage stress throughout a busy day can come naturally by practicing meditation.  There are three common types of meditation, 1) focused attention, which centers the mind in the present moment, 2) stream of consciousness, which requires the meditator to track internal bodily sensations and inner self-talk, and 3) compassion and loving kindness, which cultivates feelings of compassion and loving kindness towards others.  These are all increasingly practiced in hospitals and schools and are also increasingly being studied in scientific laboratories.  Here is how my meditation practice helped me to deflect stress during an average morning before work with two kids and a husband:

Artificial sound blasts from my husband’s alarm wrenching me out of a deep sleep.  Rolling on to my other side, I discover a soft warm body nestled next to me in the bed.  She stirs and asks groggily, “Mommy, watch Disney Junior?” in her lispy drawl where l, r, and w all sound the same.  I fumble for the remote. Tapping my open hand lightly on the bedside table, I hit my glasses first, my phone next, then finally palm the remote.  I struggle with the massive array of buttons, jabbing the memorized pattern semi consciously, with my stiff, heavy thumb.  “Mommy! Not Disney Juniow!”  The remote slips out of my hands.  “Oh, sorry baby.”  I grab at it and try again.  “There you go, is that it?”  No answer, so I crane my head, squinting against the blur to check the channel information before I hear an engrossed little, “Yes.”  My head slams back on to my pillow.  I burrow it in and try to will the tiredness away.

Like clockwork, though steeped in a thick fog of fatigue, Justin has methodically  gone down the stairs, flipped on the coffee maker, and made his way into the shower, where he’ll remain for the next 45 minutes.    Before I know it, I hear a plaintiff, “Mommy!” from the kitchen at the bottom of the stairs.  “Mommy!! I want my ceweow!”  Since he rarely eats much dinner, Henry is always starving by the time he hears his Dad descend heavily from the converted master suite of our old farmhouse.  He’s strictly forbidden to get up before he hears the shower turn on.  The minute he does, he’s up.  “MAH MEE!” He repeats a third time, no longer whining, but commanding.  “I want my CEE WEE OW!”  It’s pointless to resist, so I clumsily crawl over Charlotte calling out, “Coming baby!”  He was a collicky baby.  We all learned very early on that Henry’s eating and sleeping are paramount in keeping the peace.  We’d already tried preparing the bowls with little lids after he went to bed and putting them at his place on the kitchen island.  It failed miserably, because he would just sneak out of bed at 3 or 4 AM, devour it and be up for the day.  Of course this meant he would crash by 7, before the day had really even begun.

I stiffly make my way down the stairs, squeezing my hand along the railing for balance.  My ankle cracks uncomfortably as my body struggles to shed its sleepiness.  “Cee wee ow cee wee ow cee wee ow” Henry chants, not unpleasantly, but like a hungry 3 and a half year old.  “Okay, okay buddy. I hear ya.  Give your momma a minute please. You want the orange bowl?”  “Yes!”  Do you want fruities or honey nuts?” (Both varieties of cheerios)  “Fwuities and honey nuts.” He says the and emphatically.  “Okay Bud.”  I plop his fiesta bowl down in front of him with a dull ring after removing it from the dishwasher.  Then I walk back around the island and bend down to get the cereal out of the cabinet.  As I’m pouring the cereal, he directs me as to how much of each type he wants and then critiques my pouring job, briefly threatening not to want it anymore.  “Okay fine.  Then I’ll eat it, or I’ll give it to Charlotte.” That puts an end to that.  “Spoon!” he now commands.  “Big boy spoon or little spoon?”  “Big boy.”  “Do you want milk today?”  “Yes.”  I make another tour of the kitchen gathering the necessary supplies.  “Actually, I want the little spoon, the blue one.”  “Nope.  That’s not how it works.  You said big boy.  Big boy or nothing.”  “No!”  He starts to grunt and make his scrunchy tantrum face.  I take a deep breath and set the jug of milk down to await a resolution to this latest crisis.  “Henry, if you want a little spoon you need to tell me when I ask you.  You can’t change your mind when I’ve already gotten it out. Now do you want milk in your cereal or not?”  “But I really want the blue spoon.”  He crosses his arms and legs, leans dramatically back into his chair, hangs his head, nearly touching his chest with his chin, and juts out his bottom lip.  Unfortunately, Henry had already learned he could manipulate me.  I tell myself it stems from his colic, that I was conditioned  to soothe him however possible in those days where he would cry unceasingly as an infant.  But realistically, confrontation has always made me cringe.   “Mommy?” We’re interrupted.  “Yes Charlotte.”  “Get me?”  “Okay sweetie.”  I trudge back up the stairs and gather up my warm, soft little girl.  I nuzzle into her fluffy curls to give her a kiss on the nape of her neck.  Cradling her, I walk carefully back down the stairs.  When we reach the landing, I see Henry has the big boy spoon poised and ready to go.  “Milky!”  “Alright bud, let me put your sister down.  I transfer her to my hip and singlehandedly unlock the tray of the kiddie seat attached to her barstool, laying it on the island.  Grabbing her under the arm pits with both hands, I laboriously aim her two dangly feet at their respective holes. “MAH MEE! I want my milky!”  “I know bud, it’s comin.”  I grab a banana from the fruit bowl, rip off its peel, find a nearby spoon, quickly carve some convex banana slices for Charlotte and then hurry to pour milk in Henry’s bowl. 

Charlotte seeing the milk, blurts, “Miwk?!”  “Ok babe, lemme grab your cup.”  I scan the array of kiddie eating paraphanalia on the dish rack by the sink.  I see her preferred pink bottom and start rummaging for its top.  This creates a landslide of plastic pieces that shower down on to my feet and roll to various resting places on the floor.  “Miwk?”  “Alright, let me see, hmm…” Not identifying the piece I need, I check the dishwasher, find one that will fit, grab it, and assemble her sippy cup of milk.  By now, I would really like my cup of coffee.  My hand under the handle of the dishwaser, I’m about to go back in for my big mug, when I hear, “I want some milk.”  I pull open the door and grab my mug, as well as the top and bottom to Henry’s cup.  On my way back around the island to his seat, I set my mug down by the coffee maker, grab the milk jug that I’d placed there and continue on to Henry, where I go through the assembly process for his sippy cup. 

Finally, I pour my coffee and reach for the mason jar of sugar.  As soon as I pop the top, Henry says, “Mommy, can I watch my movie?”  I look around to see his belly on the seat of his barstool, toes feeling for the ground, he acheives the necessay balance to transfer his weight onto his feet, pushing off with his forearms and elbows.  “Ok man baby, which one, Land Before Time from last night?” “Yes.”  I follow him into the living room bracing myself for the multiple stepped ordeal.  (Child locked cabinets, different remotes, a jumble of DVD and VHS cases, cassettes, discs, etc.)  Henry, like many boys his age, really loves dinosaurs.  A couple of months ago, my Mom had happened upon a set of seven Land Before Time VCR tapes during one of her antiquing afternoons.  We knew the original from her house.  It belonged to a collection of cherished childhood items that my Mom enjoyed collecting.  First born into a large, conservative family, the few nostalgic childhood vignettes my Mom shares suggest that they were rare occasions broadly punctuated by strong admonitions.  As a result, my Mom never seemed to fully grow up.  In fact the older she gets, the more delighted by toys and dolls she becomes.

I illuminate all of the necessary technological devices and take the last step of pressing play.  I wait a couple of seconds down on my knees by that VCR player, entertainment center doors splayed open, only to see the credits roll up the black screen.  Darn it!  “Ok babe, this one’s done.  Do you want it again or a different one?”  “Different one.” Sigh. “Which one? Do you know or do you need to come take a look?  Why don’t you pick one out and I’ll be back in a minute to put it in, all right?”  I head back into the kitchen to check on Charlotte.  She’s a much more laid back little personality (for now) than her brother, I muse as I watch her focus on each cheerio, meticulously grasping them with her chubby, tapered baby fingers.  “Mommy?  I have to go potty!”  “Poo poo or pee pee?”  “Poo poo and pee pee.”  Ok, do you need help?” “Yes!”  I stride quickly over to Charlotte, lay an impulsively heavy kiss on her forehead, pushing her into my firm pucker with my right hand submerged into her tangled ringlets.  I marvel at how patient she is compared to Henry. I free her from her seat and put her down on the couch, switching the TV setting and punching in the number for Disney Jr.  Then, I hurry to meet Henry at the closed bathroom door.  “Open it, buddy.”  “Ok, I was waiting for you.” “Alright, let’s go do this thing.”  “Hey honey, it’s us, we’re going poo poo” I announce unnecessarily.  The creaky old door sufficiently alerted Justin of our entry into his steamy morning sanctuary.  “Oh, hi” he offers unenthusiastically.   Henry rips off his pajama bottoms while walking across the bathroom, his feet get tangled, tripping him and me too.  We stop so I can pull his legs free and he pops up and mounts the toilet like a gymnast tackling the vault horse, opting as usual for no stool or toddler seat.

After getting him sucessfully cleaned up and changed into his school clothes, I decide I should really get Charlotte out of her wet pull up before I go back for my coffee cup.  I march her into the bathroom so we can go through the motions of sitting on the toilet, but so far, she hasn’t shown any interest in wearing undies or going pee pee on the potty.  She does have quite an opinion about what to wear, however.  Once at her dresser, we begin the difficult process of negotiating an outfit.  Several items get rejected with a sharp, “NO!” or an “Ugwy!” or even a vehement toss.  When we have finished, Charlotte asks me earnestly, “Am I booteefuw?”  “Yes, you are very beautiful” I answer honestly, taking in her golden curls, her chubby pink cheeks, and her button nose.  Although, I can’t help but giggle as I watch her shimmy back onto the sofa wearing stripes, polka dots, and flowers.

By now my coffee is cold.  I’ve just popped it into the microwave when Henry reminds me that I need to put on his movie.  “Did you ever decide which one you want?” I call as I enter in the 30 seconds needed to warm my coffee.  “Duh Secwet ov Sauwus Wock” The Secret of Saurus Rock was an installment of the Land Before Time Saga.  I hope to God that it’s been rewound as I walk back into the living room.  I manage to find its case, open it and see that it had been.  After pressing all of the necessary buttons on the requisite remotes and fast forwarding through the previews, the movie starts and the microwave has beeped its third reminder.  I hustle to retrieve my coffee in the kitchen, only to find that it’s now too hot.  I add my milk and sugar and am about to take a sip when I hear, “Mommy!  Snuggew wif me!”  Even though I’m dying for a decent sip of coffee at this point, an invitation to snuggle trumps all.  Careful not to spill my huge, full to the brim mug of hot coffee, I weave my way back through the minefield of toys.  I alternate my attention back and forth from the small waves of café au lait crashing into the sides of my cup to the surreptitious placement of my feet.  With the balance and control of a seasoned yogi, I lower my body onto the couch, bracing my arms to prevent spillage when the strong little boy body springs into my lap, rooting his head under and around limbs until it comes to rest against my breast.  A little bit of the liquid manages to escape, but the warm brown splotches disappear into the bright flannel of my PJs.  With a fuzzy blond head on my chest and a second curly one envelopped under the crook of my arm, I take that long awaited drink of coffee.  As the sweet, warm liquid travels down my throat into my belly, I feel a wave of love surge from deep inside of me and wash out through my arms which then reflexively squeeze the two baby bodies tightly to my core.       

Heaven and Hell - A Psychedelic Trip

What happens to the mind during a psychedelic trip?  Many contend that the visions people expereience while under the influence of drugs like, ecstasy, mushrooms, or LSD are pure fantasy.  However, a growing number of medical professionals would disagree.  “Research projects and pilot studies at Johns Hopkins, Harvard, Purdue University, and the University of California, Los Angeles are probing into psychedelic drugs’ mind-altering mysteries and healing powers.”  Also, David Presti, who teaches graduate and undergraduate neuroscience at the University of California Berkeley, asserts that psychedelics are the best tool for understanding the human ‘capacity for consciousness.’  (The Second Comingof Psychedelics, Spiritualityhealth.com)  So, not only do these substances aid in understanding how our minds work, but they also have healing powers for those who suffer from mental illness.  For example, there is a medicinal tourism route that goes from the US to the jungles of Peru.  There, clients seek the help of Shamans who administer ayahuasca, a powerful hallucinogenic derived form an Amazonian jungle vine.

Though its effects can be similar to those of recreational drugs like ecstasy, mushrooms or LSD, it is far from being doled out recreationally: 

Shamans will tell you that during an ayahuasca cleansing

they’re not working with the contents of a person’s

hallucination but are actually visiting that person in

whatever plane of reality his or her spirit happens to be. 

We are not, they insist, confined to the reality of our five

senses, but can transcend it and enter a multidimensional

universe.  Peru ; Hell and Back, Newsweek, Kira Salak

Most people in our society associate hallucinogenic drugs with irresponsible and reckless behavior.  But as it turns out, these substances can be very useful.  They can effect powerful healing for psychiatric conditions, such as PTSD and depression.  There are specific parameters that must be observed for the healing to take place, however.  Most importantly, they must be administered by highly trained professionals.  In the case of the hallucinogenic ayahuasca, it is the expert shamans who are there and who can intervene.  As much healing potential as the drugs possess, they are also capable of doing a lot of harm if the proper protocol is not observed.  Author of “A Brave New World” Aldous Huxley, cautioned that psychedelics take users to either “heaven or hell.”  We’ve all heard the cautionary tale about a bad trip that drives the unlucky neophyte drug user permanently insane.  Scare tactics aside, those things really do happen.  The following is what I remember from my one experience taking mushrooms with an addict boyfriend, Aymeric while on vacation in Amsterdam:

I watched while Aymeric turned the key in the lock.  I blinked on my normal perception and opened my eyes to see the door had degenerated into a colorful hologram.  Aymeric walked through it and as I followed, it vaporized.  Once inside the hotel room, I watched the mirrors, along with the framed pictures, elongate backwards forming endless passageways that led nowhere.  Afraid I might get sucked into a strange, hollowed out world, I dove under the covers.  Aymeric asked me if the drugs were working for me yet, because he was starting to feel it.  I peeked up at him and was appalled by what I saw.  A sinister smile stretched freakishly far across deeply creased cheeks.  Dark oily circles around his eyes were offset by a grotesquely sallow, jaundiced complexion.  He was hideous.  I started to recoil and to my horror, he sprouted thick red horns, followed by a trident tail that flicked up beside him.  Panicked, I sat up in bed, pulling the covers up with me, to my chest.  As I looked from him to the bed, the duvet burst into flames.  I screamed and he laughed, assuming that to be my answer.

I spent the next couple of hours huddled under the blankets.  Thankfully, the imaginary fire had not been paired with any sensory hallucinations.  Once I realized it wasn’t real, it disappeared.  I had hoped for a euphoric experience, similar to the high from ecstasy.  The shrooms had intensified my thoughts and feelings to a similar degree, but in the opposite direction.  Whereas ecstasy unleashed an abundance of exhilarating happiness, the shrooms filled me with a hopeless terror.  Curled in a fetal ball, I tried to tether my frantic brain to sanity.  I wound one little thread over and over again through my thoughts.  “It will be over soon.  It’s not real.”  Repeating this mantra was the closest I’d come to prayer or meditation since childhood.  Mercifully, it worked.

Frightening images jumped out at me from the colorfully upholstered chairs, from the drapes, from all around the room.  If I let my mind wander for a moment, I was gripped by all-encompassing fear.  However, as soon as I focused my attention back on my simple meditation, my faith was restored.  Everything would be ok.  My sense of time was also on an alternate plane than reality.  For a while, each instant felt like an eternity.  Then, thinking that a half hour had gone by, I looked up at the clock to see that it was midnight, three hours past what I was expecting.  I looked over at Aymeric, seated in front of the TV and I no longer saw an evil devil, but rather a little boy unaware that he was in mortal danger.

He was watching cartoons.  They were in Dutch and as soon as he noticed that I was sitting up, he excitedly pointed at the screen and informed me, “I can understand what they are saying!”  He was acting like a little boy.  His eyes were glassy and it appeared that the shrooms had had the opposite effect on him. Whereas I had been panic-stricken and paralyzed, he had been perfectly content, watching an animated screen, listening to a foreign language, the way a baby fondles the mobile in his crib.  He looked just as helpless as I felt, but the difference was that he surrendered to the drug, while I fought it.

In the article, The Second Coming of Psychedelics from spiritualityhealth.com, it is noted that, “while ‘sacred medecine’ may be helpful for someone who was raised in Native American religious culture, it may prove disastrous for an outsider unprepared for a mind blowing trip.”  My experience is a testament to the validity of this statement.  I was not in any way prepared for, nor was I accompanied by a trained spiritual healer during, my mushroom trip.  Furthermore, my circumstances lacked the healing rituals associated with a shamanic ayahuasca ceremony.  Not surprisingly, I had a very negative and frightening experience, because I was in a dark place in my life.  Fortunately, I was I able to make it through with prayer and meditation.  Since I was not religious or spiritual at the time, I now attribute this to the grace of a higher power.  Kira Salak writes in Peru, Hell and Back, “All negative thoughts, shamans believe are dark spirits speaking to us, trying to scare us into reacting; the spirits then feed on our reactivity, growing stronger and more formidable until they finally rule over us.  This is how addictions and psychological disorders develop in people.”  In this view, I am lucky to have made it through my harrowing experience without suffering more psychological damage.  I deflected the negative, scary thoughts by instinctively reverting to prayer and meditation.  If I had not thought to do that, I don’t know what would have happened, but Salak insinuates in her article that my intense fear and terrifying thoughts and visions could have escalated, ultimately locking me in a Hell of my own making. 

Addiction - Spiritually Sick

How and why do people become addicted to drugs and/or alcohol?  The answer to this question is complex and involves multiple factors.  The recovery process can be equally enigmatic, especially when asking why some addicts quit while others simply won’t.  As someone close to an addict, I know just how excruciating it can be to watch as he or she struggles.  For parents, I imagine it to be especially difficult.  In my case, my loved one was a romantic partner.  Eventually I had to leave because I needed all the strength and support I could muster to beat my own drinking problem.  Now, years later, I still wonder about my ex and whether or not he managed to get clean.  This is a part of his story that I witnessed……

When Aymeric was a little boy, he lived in a small town in rural Normandy.  Annie taught English and Patrick, a sound engineer, frequently toured with rock bands.  He worked with several big names, primarily English bands, throughout the ‘80s.  In those early years, Aymeric was essentially raised by his Mom.  She told me that sometimes, when the two of them left for school early in the morning, they would get stuck in deep, spring mud or winter snow.  She and Aymeric would have to walk back, 20 minutes or more, along the unpaved country road that led to their remote house.  Patrick would grumble noisily like a bear on these occasions, because he had only just gone to bed.  The three of them would tramp back out into the mud or snow.  Patrick, angry, in his bathrobe would bluster all the back and grunt dramatically as he pushed the car out of the rut.  But more often, he was travelling.  

Once Aymeric mentioned that on the rare occasions when his Dad came in time for dinner, his Mom would whisper, “Go welcome your Daddy home.”  He’d stop his chore in the kitchen, walk nervously into the front entryway, and greet his Dad with a polite, “Bonsoir Papa.”

At 8, Aymeric moved with his family to Vancouver, Canada.  They had wanted to move to the US, preferably California, but the immigration process was far too difficult and expensive.  Immigrating to Canada is much easier, especially for French citizens.  They had no desire to move to Quebec because of the weather.  Also Patrick is utterly disdainful of Canadian French.  He often remarked, with a curled upper lip, that he would rather speak English, which said it all.  A big, cosmopolitan city and a foreign culture was a very big social adjustment for the eight year old, self-professed Mama’s boy.  Kids on the playground quickly noticed that “Your Mama” jokes really pissed off the weird French kid.  With his fancy clothes and funny accent he was a big target and he made a name for himself that first year in BC by fighting and taking regular trips to the Office.

It was around this time that Aymeric developed a weight problem.  A couple of years into our relationship, he told me that he would tell his Mom he was sick so he could stay home and eat all day.  One night, about a week or so after our wedding, his Dad pulled out some old home movies.  Even though I’d already heard his friends’ jokes, the image of him as a 150 pound 10 year old upset me.  Aymeric pointed at the TV, mocking the fat boy in a swimsuit, “Quelle baleine.”  (What a whale) When the little boy yelled out happily, “Regarde Papa!” and jumped in the pool, Aymeric laughed a little too hard.  “Listen to that squeeky baby voice!  Woah, watch out, tidal wave!”  He made all these comments in the third person.  When I think of this now, I remember Annie telling me that Aymeric was the sweetest little boy, so thoughtful and loving. 

The next video we watched was the last family vacation they took to Florida before they kicked Aymeric out for doing drugs.  On a pontoon boat in the Everglades, Aymeric sulked lean and shirtless.  Meanwhile his parents pointed out alligators over excitedly, acting like parents in denial of their kid’s drug use.  They’d almost had to cancel the trip.  He’d been gone from home for weeks leading up to it.  Annie and Patrick had scoured the city, called all of his friends.  Strangely, Aymeric seemed a lot more comfortable seeing this version of himself.  He liked his tan torso against white shorts and designer sunglasses.  I looked over at Patrick.  His face, so tender towards the other boy, had hardened, his twinkling, almost teary eyes stormed black.  

Research has shown that the younger people are when they start using drugs or alcohol, the more likely they are to become addicts as adults.  Even though parents may think that adolescents don’t listen to adults, parental objection to substance abuse has been correlated to a lower likelihood that a teen will partake in this dangerous pastime.  Furthermore, lenient societal laws and norms have a directly proportional tie with higher percentages of the population who take drugs or drink to excess.  Canada has a higher percentage of the population who have tried drugs such as cocaine or marijuana and they also have less stringent consequences for drug use.  

Spirituality has long been heralded as a means of prevention for addiction.  For example, a University of Tennessee study from 2003 found that, “adolescents who were more spiritual than their peer groups had a lower rates of depression and higher self-esteem.” (GOD is the Answer, Maclean’s Vol. 28, Issue 13/14, Brian Bethune and Genna Buck)  Likewise, spirituality is the key component in 12 step recovery.  It is important to emphasize that spirituality is different from religion.  According to progressive social workers dealing with addiction, individuals who have had a bad experience with religion do not embrace the spiritual component.  Yet most "recovery programs do not attempt to impose a narrow belief system on people." (Radicalizing Recovery:Addiction, Spirituality, and Politics, Social Work, Vol. 41, Issue 3, Carolyln Morell) 
Finally, because addiction changes the brain functioning in an individual, abstinence alone will many times not be enough for a person to return to happiness.  The twelve steps, which are founded on a spiritual component, often work where everything else has failed.  The steps take the recovering addict through the stages needed to repair one’s instinctive way of behaving.  Whereas addicts tend to lie, cheat and steal, the twelve steps foster honesty, integrity and forgiveness, thus bringing about a complete transformation of a person's psyche.

Time for a Spiritual Revolution?

Many bright and creative people suffer from mental health conditions.  Unfortunately, society often condemns people labeled with a diagnosis like bipolar disorder or schizophrenia.  Furthermore, though spirituality has been proven to help people suffering from these maladies, the medical community has a history of overlooking it as a serious means of treatment.  American society operates at an overwhelmingly fast pace.  By contrast, in France, mealtime is sacred and allows people to pause and reflect while enjoying a delicious meal.  It is a modern day ritual, which the French have long recognized as an important component of psychological health.  Here in the US, however many people must rely on medications to fit in with the exacting norms of everyday life.  If spirituality and its corresponding rituals could be made more accessible in schools and the workplace, people would be much happier, healthier and less stressed.  The lives of two historical figures who are now widely believed to have suffered from mental illnesses, Joan of Arc and Vincent VanGogh, showcase not only the importance of Spirituality, but also some important differences between Spirituality and Religion.

Spirituality has long been known to help people cope with their problems.  Happily, the calming practice of meditation is being incorporated more and more into schools and hospitals, especially psychiatric units.  Religion is different from, but related to spirituality.  Religion is a set of beliefs, whereas spirituality is an attempt to transcend.  The Christian denomination which focused primarily on the transcendent properties of prayer and meditation is mysticism.  “Significant research seems to show that people who experience genuine mystical states enjoy much higher levels of psychological health.” (Why God Won’t Go Away, Andrew Newberg, Eugene D’Aquili and Vince Rause, 108)  Joan of Arc. considered by many to have been bipolar, was put on trial for heresy at the age of 19.  Confined to a cold, damp dungeon cell without a window, she wore heavy chains on her wrists and ankles.  She had several guards who constantly teased and taunted her.  Every day she underwent hours of brutal questioning, yet she remained calm throughout the whole ordeal.  “That after seven weeks of such torture she was still able to go before her judges and answer as she did must be held the crowning miracle of her miraculous life.” (The Girl in White Armor, by Albert Bigelow Paine, 158)  Joan was constantly praying and communicating with “her voices.”  The transcript of Joan’s trial shows that she answered admirably, despite being so cruelly mistreated.  She had the right to be kept in the Church prisons, as well as to go into the Church to pray, but her captors denied her both privileges and yet she kept her composure.  Similarly, Vincent Van Gogh struggled with depression and a severe form of epilepsy.  He, too found solace in his own unique sense of spirituality which fed into his art.  He believed in the transcendent power of art, saying “Though I am often in the depths of misery, there is still calmness, pure harmony and music inside.”  Van Gogh’s spiritual connection was the impetus for his paintings.  At the time that he painted Starry Night he was residing in an insane asylum, St. Paul de Mausole, in the south of France.  In a time before pharmacies on every corner and sophisticated knowledge of pharmaceuticals, Van Gogh was able to be one of the most prolific painters of all time, even in the face of severe mental illness.  This is a testament to the power of a spiritual existence.

Spirituality often gets a bad reputation because of atrocious acts committed in the name of Religion.  Joan of Arc’s trial is a classic case of a religious leader using God to justify a horrendous act.  A distinguished French lawyer named Lohier visited Rouen during Joan’s trial.  When asked for his opinion on Joan’s case he stated that it was not legal for the following 3 reasons, “first, Joan had no counsel, secondly, it was carried on behind closed doors and third, no witnesses were summoned from the other side.” (Paine, 173)  After the French accused her of heresy and the English burned her at the stake, a guard is said to have immediately declared that they had killed a saint.  Joan was by all accounts a well-loved, innocent girl.  She was killed because of the self-serving agenda of Bishop Cauchon, who felt threatened by her.  Unlike Joan, who kept her faith in the Church until the end, Van Gogh became very disillusioned with religion as he grew into an adult, calling it, “the rear end of some sort of Buddhism.”  (Van Gogh, Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith, 766) Van Gogh’s father was a minister and Van Gogh himself studied to become one in his twenties. He stopped however, because he was not impressed by the Church’s lack of interest in helping people.  He also noted that it (the Church) seemed overly interested in money.  So, the religious zeal he experienced as a young man transformed into passion for his art.  Despite Van Gogh’s apparent spiritual connection to “the other side of life,” he suffered a psychotic episode during which he cut off his ear and he went on to commit suicide at the age of 37.  During his final years he was scorned and even reviled by the villagers in Arles where he was living and painting at the time of his death.  The fate of both Vincent Van Gogh and Joan of Arc illustrate the connection between society and spirituality.  Individuality is often problematic in a tight knit community or society.  The presence of a strict and closed minded religious community can drive away or attack individuals such as Joan of Arc or Vincent Van Gogh.    

Joan of Arc and Vincent Van Gogh were visionaries.  They were ahead of their time and as a result, they were misunderstood.  Ideally, society will evolve to the point where it doesn’t exclude or persecute artists and revolutionaries.  In modern American society people who venture outside of the prescribed behavioral norms meet with a lot of push back.  According to the article What a Shaman Sees in a Mental Hospital, by Stephanie Marohn, “another way to say this, which may make more sense to the Western mind, is that we in the West are not trained in how to deal or even taught to acknowledge the existence of psychic phenomena, the spiritual world. In fact, psychic abilities are denigrated.”  In aboriginal or indigenous societies people like Joan of Arc and Vincent Van Gogh are revered.  Here, in the US many people don’t understand spirituality and it becomes taboo because of this.  We have a habit of pushing away or punishing what we don’t understand.  In the process the unique talents of individuals who see a way to evolve are lost or underutilized.  Likewise:   

In ancient and medieval cultures, mystics were

often held in high esteem as the wisest and most

spiritually attuned members of a society. The

rationalistic and empirical demands of Western

science, however, seem to leave professional

observers no choice but to regard these modern

mystics as the victims of a damaged or deluded minds. 

(Newberg et al.,107)

The medical community operates in tandem with society at large to perpetuate the stigma born by those who are termed “mentally ill.”  Because the spiritual realm is not tangible, there is no formal way to observe and measure spiritual experiences.  And yet, “A neurological approach suggests that God is not the product of a cognitive, deductive process, but was instead “discovered” in a mystical or spiritual encounter made known to human consciousness through the transcendent machinery of the mind.” (Newberg et al., 133)  Thus, humans did not invent the concept of God, but rather they tapped into it through prayer and meditation.  Our brains are, essentially hardwired to find and to know God.  Religions invent prayers and rituals that help us experience God, but because we are human no one person or group has all the answers.  What works for one person may not for another and that’s OK.

I believe that if Joan of Arc and Vincent Van Gogh lived today they would be met with more acceptance.  I believe that society is evolving in the right direction.  Suffering and persecution are slowly, but steadily being alleviated.  It is my wish that every person have the opportunity to experience fulfilling spirituality.  It is an important component in a person’s overall well-being.  I believe that the true tragedy of our time happens when Religions push people away from God.   

Evolution of Religion

I remember countless childhood nights, lying in bed, feeling very afraid to die, even though I went to Church and Sunday school.  I just couldn't accept the version of heaven and the afterlife that I heard about there.  Also, I grew up in a scientific household and I wasn't raised to see how the two, Science and Religion, could coexist.  Now, years later as an adult, I can see plenty of room for both views.  This has taken a lot of searching and growing on my part, however. 

In order for Religion to evolve past having so many sceptics, it must reconcile itself with the scientific community.  In fact, Judaism has been doing this for 2500 years.  The first instance of this trend started after Alexander the Great and the Greeks conquered Judea in 500 BC and then culminated in the invention of Talmudic Judaism in the 1^st century AD.  Incorporating Greek terms and beliefs into the Talmud allowed Judaism to survive under Roman provincial rule.  Next, in the 17^th century, Baruch Spinoza again revolutionized Judaism by equating God with Nature and removing the idea of a personal God that meddled in the affairs of humans and punished our wrongdoings.  Spinoza’s philosophy was reflective of the 17^th and 18^th century belief that, “if people would only be rational in all matters, including religion, then all of mankind’s problems would be solved and the messianic hope would, in effect, be realized.” (SHOFAR, Summer 2004, God in Nature or Lord of the Universe? : The Encounter of Judaism and Science from Hellenistic Times to the Present, David G. Singer, 90)  

Baruch Spinoza

Finally, the 19^th century brought about a revolution of science and technology, which in part, led to two horrific World wars in the early part of the 20^th century.  As a result, Mordecai Kaplan founded Reconstructionist Judaism in which God is defined, “as the natural force in the universe that promotes morality and goodness in the human race.”  (Singer, 92)  This view is very much like that of the ancient eastern religions.  Yet many modern western scientists refuse to espouse Kaplan’s ideas of being somehow connected to a spiritual realm.  A prime example of a prominent 21^st century scientist who is a staunch atheist is Stephen Hawking.  When addressing the similarities between Asian philosophies and physics he said, “A few physicists like to make a connection between an “observer dependent” universe and ideas in Eastern mysticism: Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism.  The universe of Eastern mysticism is an illusion.  A physicist who attempts to link it with his own work has abandoned physics.” (Stephen Hawking / An Unfettered Mind, Kitty Ferguson, 104-105)

Stephen Hawking

 Hawking has an incredible need to push out the possibility of God’s existence.  It almost feels like a vendetta, but considering the circumstances of his existence, anger at a higher power is definitely understandable.  Diagnosed with ALS at twenty one, his mere existence 50 years later could be considered by some to be a miracle, but not by Hawking.  When asked about God’s interest in human life he quipped, “we are such insignificant creatures on a minor planet of a very average star in the outer suburbs of one of a hundred thousand million galaxies. So it is difficult to believe in a God that would care about us or even notice our existence.” (Ferguson, 80)  Hawking’s approach to his field of study is to negate the need for God by explaining all of life’s mysteries with science alone.  Many would argue, however that the human mind, no matter how brilliant is not capable of comprehending all of the universe’s mysteries.  I agree with Einstein who made the following analogy:

The problem (of God’s existence) is too vast for our limited minds.

We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library filled with

books in many languages.  The child knows someone must have written

those books.  It does not know how.  It does not understand the languages

in which they are written.  The child dimly suspects a mysterious order in the

arrangement of the books, but doesn’t know what it is.  That, it seems to me,

is the attitude of even the most intelligent human being toward God.

(Einstein/His Life and His Universe, Walter Isaacson, 386)

Einstein was very religious from a young age.  Later, as he matured into a scientist, he revered the beauty and perfection that Science revealed in the World around us.  Rather than choose to look at humans as pathetic and weak, unworthy of God’s notice like Hawking, Einstein instead chose awe for the realm that Science revealed, thereby equating the two.  Einstein believed that atheism was an unfortunately bleak way to experience life.  He had the following to say about atheists: 

The fanatical atheists are like slaves who are still feeling the weight

of their chains which they have thrown off after hard struggle.  They

are creatures who – in their grudge against traditional religion as the

‘opium of the masses’ – cannot hear the music of the spheres.  (Isaacson, 390)

By comparing atheists to slaves, Einstein implies that they are trapped in their way of thinking.  Just like slaves are often born into their condition of slavery, so are we all born into our unique set of circumstances that shape the way we view the World around us.  This renders the concept of Free Will, especially problematic and Einstein said that it was one aspect of Judaism with which he did not identify, saying instead:

I do not at all believe in free will in the philosophical sense. 

Everybody acts not only under external compulsion but also

in accordance with inner necessity.  Schopenhauer’s saying,

“A man can do as he wills but not will as he wills,” has been a

real inspiration to me since my youth; it has been a continual

consolation in the face of life’s hardships, my own and others’,

and an unfailing wellspring of tolerance. (Isaacson, 391)

Albert Einstein

Like Einstein, I know that I don’t have control over a lot of really influential factors governing my life and neither does anyone else.  Fortunately, despite my negative childhood experiences with religion, I was able to find a spirituality that works for me and now I can share that with my children.  The following vignette about me and my son illustrates exactly why I think it is so important that religion evolve.

“Henry honey, why aren’t you going to sleep?” I ask sternly, but not yet too annoyed.

“I’m afraid of dying,” came back the honest and slightly terrified reply.

“Ok baby,” I walk into his room and climb in bed next to him.  “Why are you afraid of that?”  Fortunately, we haven’t ever had any pets or relatives die.

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen.”   

“Well guess what Henry, I used to be afraid of that too when I was your age.  But I’ve done a lot of growing and learning since then and I’ve learned a lot about God and dying and I know there is nothing to be afraid of.  I promise.” And I kiss him on the forehead and hug him in my arms.  “You know what I do when I’m afraid?” I ask.

“No, what?” he asks.

“I pray, do you want to pray with me?” He nods his head against my chest.  “Ok, please God, help me not to be afraid, say it with me, ‘please God help me not to be afraid, please God help me not to be afraid….”

I hear his voice reciting with mine.

A week later, we are driving back from the grocery store talking about Pokemon, when Henry interjects a sudden topic change.  “Mom, guess what?”

“I don’t know, buddy, what?”

“The prayer worked, I’m not afraid to die anymore!”

A healthy spiritual existence is an important part of the whole person.  When Religion obstinately refuses to evolve it pushes people away who can’t reconcile what they hear at Church with the messages being heard out in the rest of the World.  The Jews have addressed this problem and have been working to reshape Judaism to fit with scientific teachings for millennia.  Einstein, a Jew and one of the world’s most prominent scientists of all time, had a perfectly evolved view of God and Spirituality.  As humans, we must accept there are mysteries not even the most brilliant scientist can solve.  Any Religion claiming to have all of the answers forgets the message of humility and acceptance at the core of any spiritual teaching.  Why couldn't all of the world's religions come together with the scientific community and evolve?

Moveable Feasts and Misquotes

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

Taking a quote out of its original context often results in misinformation.  For example, this quote was not taken from the book itself, but from a letter that Hemingway wrote in 1950, 11 years before his death.  His 4^th wife, Mary and his biographer friend, to whom the letter had been addressed, used it to title the posthumously published memoir.  Hemingway’s father, a doctor, wanted his son to follow in his footsteps.  Yet, Ernest knew he had to write.  A Moveable Feast is the story about how he launched his career while living in Paris, mentored by Gertrude Stein and immersed in a literary community that included James Joyce, Ezra Pound and F Scott Fitzgerald, to name a few.  He was writing A Moveable Feast at the time of his suicide.  Ironically, despite young Hemingway’s stolid determination to forge his own path through life, he ended up exactly the same way his father did. Both men killed themselves with a shotgun.  

Sadly, the later years of Hemingway’s life were plagued by serious health problems, heavy drinking, family strife and depression.  His last major work of fiction, The Old Man and the Sea, was published in 1952.  It was the discovery of a trunk of his early writings in the basement of the Paris Ritz hotel that spurred the memoir he was working on when he died.  His son Patrick identified this quote as the last thing that his father wrote which he apparently had intended as a forward to the work, “This book contains material from the remises of my memory and of my heart.  Even if one has been tampered with and the other does not exist.”  It seems as if the older man experienced a wave of inspiration, but also of disappointment, when confronted by the sparkling years of his youth.  The passion he once felt so strongly had waned and given way to despair. 

I too, moved to France in my twenties, perhaps in part like Ernest, to escape a career more respectable than that of part-time, ex-pat, English teacher.  There, in Bordeaux, I experienced my first adult communication from God.  When I remember it now, I picture a normal Sunday afternoon. I know the exact date: May 19^th, 2002, because it was the Feast of Pentecost, a moveable feast, like Easter.  I went out to Lunch with some girlfriends and discussed my plans to stay in France for a 2^nd year.  Walking home afterwards, the sun shone down on me from a bright blue sky.  I looked up at it and took in a horizon filled with the pink angles of terracotta tiled roofs.  I hadn’t gone to Church that day or any other day in a long time, but suddenly I was filled with a certainty that God exists and that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as the feeling of certainty washed over me, a wave of doubt threatened to smash it.  I hurried my steps and almost ran up the stairs in the crumbling, centuries old stone building where I had a tiny, but recently refurbished, attic nook apartment.  I picked up the phone and called home, to St. Louis.  I left an excited message on the answering machine, then hung up, immediately feeling stupid.  I knew it would sound crazy, just like I always feared I was perceived.  Just a few weeks before, my Mom had told me how my Dad and brother laughed and laughed while reading my letter, the one where I outlined my dream of being a writer.  I had included a simple, hand drawn chart, complete with arrows and question marks.  Of course the scientists would be amused, I remarked bitterly to my Mom.  “No, no, Amy.  They thought it was cute,” she defended, not meaning to intensify the blow.       

In today’s world, people are taught not to trust their feelings.  Similarly, creative thoughts are deemed, at best, too impractical to deserve nurturing. For the most part, unless one is lucky enough to be part of an artistic community ‘thinking outside the box’ is not tolerated.  René Descartes (1596-1650) lived at the time of the Spanish Inquisition.  Though he was a profoundly spiritual man, he went to great lengths to hide the true nature of his spirituality fearing retribution from the Catholic Church.  But Descartes did keep meticulous records, written in code, of his more unconventional studies and beliefs.  On the night of November 10, 1619 (The Feast of St. Martin) he discovered his life’s purpose in a series of three dreams.  Descsrtes’ interpretation of these dreams is explained in the following excerpt from the book, Descartes’ Secret Notebook, by Amir D. Aczel:

Descartes’ charge was to develop his geometry – to bring its ancient Greek principles to the seventeenth century, in which he lived, and ultimately to bequeath to the world the new science he would create: analytic geometry. (59)

Descartes believed the 3 dreams to be spiritually inspired and according to him, they resulted in the famous mathematical treatise, Discourse on the Method, published almost 20 years later, in 1637.  This highly influential work would lay the foundation for the fields of physics, engineering and modern technology.  His proposition, “I think, therefore I am,” brought mankind fully into the age of reason, when man’s intellect reigned supreme. Yet, this famous quote has been taken out of context.  Many would-be philosophers quote it as if to say that human thought is a superior force of nature.  However, Descartes’ original intent was quite different.  The 'I think' was meant to imply doubt which then started the following chain of philosophical thought:

Doubt implies uncertainty. And uncertainty implies imperfection.  Human beings and everything in their environment are imperfect.  But the idea of the imperfect implies the existence of something that is not imperfect. That which is not imperfect is, by definition, perfect.  And perfection belongs to God. (Aczel, p. 157)

Thus, Descartes’s Discourse includes a mathematical proof of God’s existence.  Man’s thoughts are imperfect which proves the existence of God’s perfection. Ironically Descartes famous quote is used to prove the power of human thought, when he in fact was arguing for the supremacy of the Divine.

The 17^th century marked a complete turning point in human thought.  Scholars began to favor a world view based on that which could be observed, measured, understood, and controlled by the power of the human mind alone.  On the other hand, in the ancient world, Greek philosophers like Socrates and Pythagoras sought knowledge of the world around them by looking inward, via contemplation and meditative thought.  Karen Armstrong explains this in her book A Case for God:

In the ancient world, people experienced an idea as something that happened to them.  It was not a question of the “I” knowing something; instead, the “Known” drew one to itself.  People said, in effect, “I think- therefore there is that which I think.” (67)

 Leading up to the 17^th century, scholars sought Divine inspiration in order to discover the Truth.  A person gained understanding of life by cultivating one’s life of prayer and meditation.  In this way, the ancient Western civilizations resembled the early Eastern religions.  As older texts were updated and translated and recopied, however, changes were made, or the original context was lost.  Armstrong also explains the famous “I am that I am,” quote from the burning bush on Mt. Sinai, “Ehyeh asher ehyeh (I am that I am) is a Hebrew idiom that expresses deliberate vagueness… So when Moses asked God who he was, Yahweh in effect replied: “Never Mind who I am!”  (The Case for God, 39)  Though modern biblical scholars interpret the quote to mean that God is being, an awareness of Hebrew dialect points to a far less philosophical connotation.  The God of the Old Testament was like a cranky father, eager to get to the point (in this case, the 10 commandments). 

Shavuot is the Jewish holiday commemorating the giving of the law on Mount Sinai.  It follows Passover like Pentecost follows Easter in the Christian Church.  Pentecost and before that, Shavuot, took the place of an important harvest festival in the Ancient World.  In Greek, Pentecost means ‘fiftieth day’ since the first wheat was ready for harvest 50 days after the planting.  Similarly, Easter and Passover are the more modern versions of the fertility festival at the planting.  This explains why modern, secular Easter celebrations incorporate bunnies and eggs (symbols of fertility).  In a metaphorical sense, the seeds of Faith are planted on Easter and Passover and then they are harvested when God or the Holy Spirit visits on Pentecost or Shavuot.

Pentecost is also known as the birthday of the Church and is the commemoration of the Holy Spirit descending on the disciples fifty days after Jesus’ crucifixion.  Last year I went to Church on Pentecost and was struck by this reading from 1^st Corinthians 12:3b-13:

No one can say “Jesus is Lord” except by the Holy Spirit.  To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.  For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.  For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body – Jews or Greeks, slaves or free – and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

I took it to mean that everyone is meant to pray to one and the same God.  However, when reading another book, Misquoting Jesus, The story behind who changed the Bible and why, by Bart D. Ehrman, I found this:

The word Spirit (Pneuma) would have been abbreviated in most manuscripts as PMA, which understandably could be-and was-misread by some scribes as the Greek word for “drink” (POMA); and so in these witnesses Paul is said to indicate that all have “drunk of one drink.” (91)   

Further evidence for the existence of numerous different biblical interpretations exist.  Considering that it has been around for 2000 years and translated time and again, the possibilities seem infinite.  All languages have the capacity to be highly nuanced due to factors that range from dialect to idiomatic expressions and on to translator discretion.  One of these factors alone can completely change the meaning of a passage, so when the factors are added together, the potential for variation in meaning is compounded exponentially.

When Hemingway wrote to his editor friend about Paris as a moveable feast, I believe he meant that spending time in France was something that would feed him for years after he moved away. Yet while the lost trunk of his early Paris writings inspired a memoir, it also led to his suicide.  Hemingway wrote in A Moveable Feast, “By then I knew that everything good and bad left an emptiness when it stopped.  But if it was bad, the emptiness filled up by itself.  If it was good you could only fill it by finding something better.” (52, restored version, 2009)  Apparently it was not possible for Hemingway to improve upon those Paris years.  It would appear that, when confronted with his life in Paris, he realized nothing better would ever replace it and so he shot himself.  Like Hemingway, I miss France and constantly yearn to go back.  Also, like Hemingway, I struggled with alcohol.  Luckily for me, I stopped drinking when I had my children.  Yet the emptiness didn’t fill up by itself.  For me it was replaced by something far better, by God.