This blog is inspired by a comment James from the Blog "Letters form the Sanitarium" made on my Recurring Dream post. He said, "Perhaps our "peak" is different than others".
Made me think of the Aldous Huxley book, "The Doors of Perception". If you haven't read it do. It is a great book. It is about his experiences with taking mescaline in the 60's.
His theory was that when people first developed we had the ability to sense everything in our world. To touch, taste, smell, feel, hear every single thing there was. It would have been overwhelming so we evolved into more specialized creatures. Our biology became pared down so we became only able to sense those things we needed to in order to survive. (i.e. sensing things like food, shelter, etc.)
He explained that in the beginning our "doors of perception" were wide open to everything. Evolution shut so they were only partially open. He believed that when he took mescaline his hallucinations, his perceptions, were simply the doors opening wider. He was not seeing things that were not there, but only things that his mind could not previously comprehend.
As soon as I read the book I thought...God, that is what it is like when I am really high in terms of my mood disorder (hypomanic like symptoms). I wake up and colours become so intense...It is like they glow. It is like there is an intense lifeforce running through everything. When I see a Van Gogh painting I know why he painted that way...He SAW things that way.
I started to think...hmmm maybe those of us with mental illnesses simply have our "doors" open wider than most. Maybe when I am depressed and paranoid...People really are trying to hurt me, or saying bad things about me? Maybe when I am high I really see things the way they are?
You never know...
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
The Trickster Part 1
I sometimes wonder if the logical side of me impedes my ability to see and accept the mystical side of life. So many things have happened to me that suggest a higher power, but I, an unbeliever, am constantly seeking more proof. Yet, I continue to seek, which may suggest some sort of unconscious belief in an existence beyond what I experience here on earth.
I have had numerous encounters with the unexplainable. So much so that I am reminded of a joke I once heard. There had been a huge flood in a town. A very God fearing, God loving man clambered onto his roof to avoid the floodwaters. People were drowning everywhere. He started to pray. "Please God save me from this flood. I will be eternally grateful." Soon a man with a boat came by. "Jump in", he exhorted. "I will save you." The man declined. "God will save me", he said. A few minutes later a helicopter hovered above him and sent down a ladder. "Climb up", the pilot shouted. "No, no thanks. God will save me." Within minutes a flash flood swepts through the valley and the man died. His soul floated towards the pearly gates and when he got there he was livid. "I spent my whole life praising and praying to God. I gave him my life. I can't believe he ignored my prayers when I needed him most. I can't believe he let me die like this." St. Peter looked at the man and said, "We sent you a boat, and then we sent a helicopter, what else would you have liked us to do?"
Recognizing the signs of an existence beyond our phenomenological experiences may be the most difficult task of all, especially these days where skepticism impedes our spiritual growth. The first time I recognized I may have a belief deficit was when my cat Sebastian died. I was sleeping and I had an extraordinarily vivid dream that he was drowning. The dream was so real that I woke with a start and at 5:00 in the morning I put on my raincoat and boots and went out into a torrent of rain looking for my cat. Not five minutes later I found him in a pool of water at the side of the road. I was heartbroken, but also very perplexed. Had I seen this happening in my dream? Had I had a permonition? I was very confused. Reason took over and I thought it had probably been just me worring about my cat being outside and subconsciously hearing the rain.
Two years later I had two cats, brothers named Bacchus and Phoenix. Phoenix was the closest to a person a cat could become. He was like a child and had taken to leaping into my arms. He would then hug me with his paws. He would talk to me all the time in his funny cat language and there were times when I am certain each of us understood the other. On August 26th, at 2:30 a.m. my first niece was born. I had let Phoenix outside late that evening. At 6:00 a.m that morning I found Phoenix had been hit by a car and killed. A phoenix is a mythical creature, that once every 500 years explodes in fire. Out of the ashes of the old bird a new phoenix is born. I find it difficult to believe the birth of my niece, and the death of my cat, were unconnected. The skeptic in me says, "pure chance". My increasing need to find meaning in life suggests my niece is the reincarnation of my much loved feline.
The skeptic may have won me back had it not been for yet another unexplainable incident, again involving a cat. A year after losing Phoenix, Bacchus disappeared. We searched everywhere for him and concluded that he must have been taken by a coyote. (We live on a farm and packs of coyotes sing in our backyard on a regular basis). Months went by with no sign of the cat. Then one night I had a dream. I had found Bacchus at the new mall being built on Steveston Highway. The dream had been so intense that when I woke I told my husband I had had a dream about Bacchus. I exhorted him to please go up to the mall and drive around the perimeter of the building site.
I was not one to believe in premonitions, and I had never asked anything like this before. Jim thought I was off my rocker. At 10:30 a.m. I received a message on my voicemail, "You are not going to believe this Honey, but I found Bacchus" was the message. My husband had found the cat, albeit not alive, under our shed. I could not help but ask myself what the chances were that we would find him the day I dreamt we would find him, the day I asked Jim to look for him. I was beginning to feel like the man in the joke, a person blind to reality when it did not jive with preconceived notions of how I felt the objective scientifically defined world was supposed to be. Was it possible a world, a spiritual, meaningful world, existed beyond the realm of my understanding. I was beginning to seriously consider the notion.
To be continued...
I have had numerous encounters with the unexplainable. So much so that I am reminded of a joke I once heard. There had been a huge flood in a town. A very God fearing, God loving man clambered onto his roof to avoid the floodwaters. People were drowning everywhere. He started to pray. "Please God save me from this flood. I will be eternally grateful." Soon a man with a boat came by. "Jump in", he exhorted. "I will save you." The man declined. "God will save me", he said. A few minutes later a helicopter hovered above him and sent down a ladder. "Climb up", the pilot shouted. "No, no thanks. God will save me." Within minutes a flash flood swepts through the valley and the man died. His soul floated towards the pearly gates and when he got there he was livid. "I spent my whole life praising and praying to God. I gave him my life. I can't believe he ignored my prayers when I needed him most. I can't believe he let me die like this." St. Peter looked at the man and said, "We sent you a boat, and then we sent a helicopter, what else would you have liked us to do?"
Recognizing the signs of an existence beyond our phenomenological experiences may be the most difficult task of all, especially these days where skepticism impedes our spiritual growth. The first time I recognized I may have a belief deficit was when my cat Sebastian died. I was sleeping and I had an extraordinarily vivid dream that he was drowning. The dream was so real that I woke with a start and at 5:00 in the morning I put on my raincoat and boots and went out into a torrent of rain looking for my cat. Not five minutes later I found him in a pool of water at the side of the road. I was heartbroken, but also very perplexed. Had I seen this happening in my dream? Had I had a permonition? I was very confused. Reason took over and I thought it had probably been just me worring about my cat being outside and subconsciously hearing the rain.
Two years later I had two cats, brothers named Bacchus and Phoenix. Phoenix was the closest to a person a cat could become. He was like a child and had taken to leaping into my arms. He would then hug me with his paws. He would talk to me all the time in his funny cat language and there were times when I am certain each of us understood the other. On August 26th, at 2:30 a.m. my first niece was born. I had let Phoenix outside late that evening. At 6:00 a.m that morning I found Phoenix had been hit by a car and killed. A phoenix is a mythical creature, that once every 500 years explodes in fire. Out of the ashes of the old bird a new phoenix is born. I find it difficult to believe the birth of my niece, and the death of my cat, were unconnected. The skeptic in me says, "pure chance". My increasing need to find meaning in life suggests my niece is the reincarnation of my much loved feline.
The skeptic may have won me back had it not been for yet another unexplainable incident, again involving a cat. A year after losing Phoenix, Bacchus disappeared. We searched everywhere for him and concluded that he must have been taken by a coyote. (We live on a farm and packs of coyotes sing in our backyard on a regular basis). Months went by with no sign of the cat. Then one night I had a dream. I had found Bacchus at the new mall being built on Steveston Highway. The dream had been so intense that when I woke I told my husband I had had a dream about Bacchus. I exhorted him to please go up to the mall and drive around the perimeter of the building site.
I was not one to believe in premonitions, and I had never asked anything like this before. Jim thought I was off my rocker. At 10:30 a.m. I received a message on my voicemail, "You are not going to believe this Honey, but I found Bacchus" was the message. My husband had found the cat, albeit not alive, under our shed. I could not help but ask myself what the chances were that we would find him the day I dreamt we would find him, the day I asked Jim to look for him. I was beginning to feel like the man in the joke, a person blind to reality when it did not jive with preconceived notions of how I felt the objective scientifically defined world was supposed to be. Was it possible a world, a spiritual, meaningful world, existed beyond the realm of my understanding. I was beginning to seriously consider the notion.
To be continued...
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Recurring Dream
I have this recurring dream. I struggle to climb a hill or mountain. Part way up I slide down the hill and land in a lake below. It is very Sisyphusean. I guess like Sisyphus I feel condemned to roll my boulder, my treatment resistant depression, up a hill forever.
I started thinking today that maybe the dream was trying to tell me that trying to climb to the top, whether it be trying to get out of this depressive episode, or trying to achieve things in the world, or trying to obtain material goods, was not the way to the top. That I was not destined to reach the top as I have been perceiving it.
Maybe the way to succeed is to stop trying to become undepressed. To stop pressuring myself to succeed. To stop berating myself for being unable to work. To stop worrying about not achieving any kind of material status...owning my own home, having a stable, well paying job, ensuring my husband and I have a secure retirement etc. All these worries about material goods are not even about having things....they are about feeling safe. I am terrified I will be cut off disability while still desperately depressed and unable to work, and that I will subsequently end up poor and on the street. That terrifies me.
I am beginning to believe I have been wrong all along about what will make me happy, about what will provide my life the meaning I so desperately seek. Perhaps my purpose in this life is to accept my situation. Maybe it is to help others accept a chronic illness. Maybe it is teach others about chronic depression....who knows?
I remember watching the movie, "Thirteen Conversations About One Thing". In the movie there is a scene where one of the characters is suicidal. She decides to kill herself by stepping off the curb into the path of a moving car. Just as she is about to take that step she looks up and catches the eye of a stranger across the street. The man smiles at her. In that instant she steps back from the curb and decides to live.
I saw that scene and could not help but believe we are all here for a purpose. The purpose we seek to fulfil may not be some huge undertaking. I may not even be something we recognize as a purpose. It could be as simple as our smiling when another person needs a smile. Perhaps that man's whole purpose in life, his whole reason for being, was to be there at that exact time, in that exact place, and to smile and save a life.
...Aqua
I started thinking today that maybe the dream was trying to tell me that trying to climb to the top, whether it be trying to get out of this depressive episode, or trying to achieve things in the world, or trying to obtain material goods, was not the way to the top. That I was not destined to reach the top as I have been perceiving it.
Maybe the way to succeed is to stop trying to become undepressed. To stop pressuring myself to succeed. To stop berating myself for being unable to work. To stop worrying about not achieving any kind of material status...owning my own home, having a stable, well paying job, ensuring my husband and I have a secure retirement etc. All these worries about material goods are not even about having things....they are about feeling safe. I am terrified I will be cut off disability while still desperately depressed and unable to work, and that I will subsequently end up poor and on the street. That terrifies me.
I am beginning to believe I have been wrong all along about what will make me happy, about what will provide my life the meaning I so desperately seek. Perhaps my purpose in this life is to accept my situation. Maybe it is to help others accept a chronic illness. Maybe it is teach others about chronic depression....who knows?
I remember watching the movie, "Thirteen Conversations About One Thing". In the movie there is a scene where one of the characters is suicidal. She decides to kill herself by stepping off the curb into the path of a moving car. Just as she is about to take that step she looks up and catches the eye of a stranger across the street. The man smiles at her. In that instant she steps back from the curb and decides to live.
I saw that scene and could not help but believe we are all here for a purpose. The purpose we seek to fulfil may not be some huge undertaking. I may not even be something we recognize as a purpose. It could be as simple as our smiling when another person needs a smile. Perhaps that man's whole purpose in life, his whole reason for being, was to be there at that exact time, in that exact place, and to smile and save a life.
...Aqua
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