Monday, March 29, 2010

Anatomy of a Spiritual Illness (Part 1 of 5)

(St. John of the Cross in his book, "The Ascent of Mount Carmel," indicates that God tears down the old body of one who seeks union with God, so that a new temple appropriate to receive God will grow).

Janet and I had just spent two years living by ourselves in a remote area of Pennsylvania. It was 1983, and I was tending oil wells on the property, cutting wood for our woodstove, and chasing black bears away from our trailer, while Janet planted a large garden, cooked soybeans in a pressure cooker, and made lots of yummy homemade bread!

It was an idyllic setting, with our little mobile home situated on a hill surrounded by a hundred acres of forest dotted with shallow, Pennsylvania oil wells. We were able to practice meditation all day, every day, either sitting in meditation practicing concentration, or practicing mindfulness during our activities.

But reluctantly we eventually had to move on, and decided to spend some time at the Zen Center in San Francisco for our first stop. Soon after arriving, we found ourselves participating in a week-long, fourteen-hour a day intensive meditation retreat with about forty other monks and lay people.

And that's when it happened . . .

My meditation had been deepening quickly during the retreat, influenced by the subliminal effects of the many other meditators in the hall. All distractions had disappeared, and only mind remained observing itself. This appeared as a blank screen, an image that my mind was extraordinarily attracted to, and remained effortlessly absorbed in.

Things were going pretty well, until large blocks of time began mysteriously disappearing from my awareness. The bell would sound, indicating the beginning of a forty-minute meditation period, and seemingly two seconds later, it would sound again ending the session! I didn't know where the thirty-nine minutes and fifty-eight seconds were going to; but whatever was happening was intriguing and somewhat amusing until unexpectedly one afternoon in the hall, everything changed forever.

It began with a literal "bang." I actually thought that someone snuck up behind me and hit me on the head with a telephone book! Then I heard booming words coming from inside my mind, powerful and commanding words sounding like a loudspeaker and etching themselves permanently in my mind: "You are now completely healed."

Immediately following these words, my ears began ringing loudly, and the upper part of my body heated up, feeling feverish. I also became extremely giddy for no apparent reason and could barely control the urge to laugh out loud. I actually thought that I would have to leave the hall before I disrupted everybody.

Next, I saw waves of energy visibly flowing from the top of my head down through my body and out the bottom of my feet, spreading throughout the hall and into each of the silent meditators sitting with me. I could barely keep from laughing; how silly they all looked, sitting there practicing their meditation with such seriousness, and with such concerned faces. And how ridiculous were those powerful words that blasted from inside my head; "You are now completely healed." Healed of what? I was in peak physical condition, the prime of my life! What needed healing?

I gazed about the hall and marveled at these meditators; so ridiculously solemn. I felt as if a flippant, glib being had taken over my body and was showing me that everything was merely a silly dance. It was so liberating, and the urge to laugh became uncontrollable. It was as if I was back at home in Ohio with my father scolding me for giggling at the dinner table! The more he frowned, the more I giggled.

I finally had to leave the hall before my laughter erupted, but when I went to my room and tried to sleep, the giggling abruptly stopped.

It was an unimaginable terror-filled night with wild random snippets of visions in vivid color raging through my mind, several flashing every second. The top half of my body was on fire, and the bottom half, ice cold, and my heart was palpitating and pounding so severely that it would actually stop beating for long periods of time, producing intense feelings of fear and impending death.

Then my body would become numb. I could feel nothing, as my breathing became shallow and would almost stop, with no apparent heartbeat, and I would have to move my fingers and toes to make sure that I was still there. Then, after about twenty minutes in this catatonic state, the wild, random scenes would begin again, accompanied by a runaway heartbeat.

The severity of this alternating manic activity and dead calm only became worse during the night, and finally, about four a.m. when everybody was just waking up, I stumbled into the hallway looking for help. Someone called the head monk who came quickly, but had no idea what was going on. He summoned a physician that was fortunately attending the retreat, who after a cursory check of my heart piled me into his car and headed for San Francisco General Hospital.

The emergency room was packed, and I had to wait an interminably long time. About three hours later, a male nurse wheeled me into an examining room and hooked up an EKG. He glanced at the tape and said, "Wow! Stay cool man, I'll get some help!"

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