Post by vickyk on Jun 19, 2009 21:43:47 GMT 10
Depression and Soul-Loss
by John Ryan Haule, www.jrhaule.net/depSoulLoss.html
Excerpt:
The re-emergence in the late twentieth century of shamanism -- with its lively and concrete notion of soul -- seems to be a response to a very depressing cultural reality. In the past six or seven hundred years, we have undergone a consciousness-shift of 180 degrees. Formerly soul was our primary reality. Now we have only a body and a rational ego. The material conditions of our lives have improved immeasurably, but we’ve lost the imaginal and transcendent scope that belongs to the reality of soul. In a situation like this, it is often the depressives among us who are the most realistic regarding the impoverishment of our human existence.
A seriously depressed patient of mine has given me a lot of food for thought in this regard. As she looks out upon the world, this sixty-year-old woman concludes, “I’m not like the other women.” In her eyes, other people move about with a purpose, a sense of hope, and a future which seem denied to her. Furthermore her idealizing projection onto me places me as far above “the others” as they are above her. She summarizes this outlook in three propositions. Some people, miserable wretches like herself, have no soul at all. Others, perhaps the majority, “have” a soul. The elite, however, do not merely “have” a soul, they “are” their souls.
She can hardly believe her good fortune, after having lived fifty-some years without a soul to have chanced upon one of the very few individuals on the face of the earth who actually “is” a soul, and that this individual (myself) takes an interest in her, reaches into the “empty cavity” at the center of her soulless being and “touches” her, brings her to anguished life -- if only for a moment in the midst of an hour-long session. She “clings” to my soul, tries to take it with her when she leaves my office. In this way, she hopes to be able to become more like “the others.” Someday she may “have” a soul of her own. If she’s ultimately successful in her therapeutic work, perhaps she’ll actually “become” a soul.
I think no one who meets her casually would mistake this woman (let’s call her Joan) for a well-adjusted individual -- much less a wise philosopher. Others of my clients who have encountered Joan on their way into or out of my office have been so horrified and upset by the aura of doom and depression surrounding her that they have asked to change their appointment hour so as to avoid meeting her. Nevertheless, I find her to be one of the wisest and most rewarding of my patients. She has a perspective that is almost shamanic in scope. But I don’t dare tell her this. If I tried to describe shamanism to her, she’d think I was speaking gobbledygook; and if she understood only a fraction, she would likely be frightened into one of her several-week-long psychotic episodes.
I’ll return to Joan, but let us first reflect on the experience of soul. For this is what singles Joan out in her uniqueness. Soul is no quaint theological notion for Joan. It describes a way of life, a dimension of experience -- a realm she believes is closed off to her, even though she intermittently hopes that it’ll not stay unattainable forever.
by John Ryan Haule, www.jrhaule.net/depSoulLoss.html
Excerpt:
The re-emergence in the late twentieth century of shamanism -- with its lively and concrete notion of soul -- seems to be a response to a very depressing cultural reality. In the past six or seven hundred years, we have undergone a consciousness-shift of 180 degrees. Formerly soul was our primary reality. Now we have only a body and a rational ego. The material conditions of our lives have improved immeasurably, but we’ve lost the imaginal and transcendent scope that belongs to the reality of soul. In a situation like this, it is often the depressives among us who are the most realistic regarding the impoverishment of our human existence.
A seriously depressed patient of mine has given me a lot of food for thought in this regard. As she looks out upon the world, this sixty-year-old woman concludes, “I’m not like the other women.” In her eyes, other people move about with a purpose, a sense of hope, and a future which seem denied to her. Furthermore her idealizing projection onto me places me as far above “the others” as they are above her. She summarizes this outlook in three propositions. Some people, miserable wretches like herself, have no soul at all. Others, perhaps the majority, “have” a soul. The elite, however, do not merely “have” a soul, they “are” their souls.
She can hardly believe her good fortune, after having lived fifty-some years without a soul to have chanced upon one of the very few individuals on the face of the earth who actually “is” a soul, and that this individual (myself) takes an interest in her, reaches into the “empty cavity” at the center of her soulless being and “touches” her, brings her to anguished life -- if only for a moment in the midst of an hour-long session. She “clings” to my soul, tries to take it with her when she leaves my office. In this way, she hopes to be able to become more like “the others.” Someday she may “have” a soul of her own. If she’s ultimately successful in her therapeutic work, perhaps she’ll actually “become” a soul.
I think no one who meets her casually would mistake this woman (let’s call her Joan) for a well-adjusted individual -- much less a wise philosopher. Others of my clients who have encountered Joan on their way into or out of my office have been so horrified and upset by the aura of doom and depression surrounding her that they have asked to change their appointment hour so as to avoid meeting her. Nevertheless, I find her to be one of the wisest and most rewarding of my patients. She has a perspective that is almost shamanic in scope. But I don’t dare tell her this. If I tried to describe shamanism to her, she’d think I was speaking gobbledygook; and if she understood only a fraction, she would likely be frightened into one of her several-week-long psychotic episodes.
I’ll return to Joan, but let us first reflect on the experience of soul. For this is what singles Joan out in her uniqueness. Soul is no quaint theological notion for Joan. It describes a way of life, a dimension of experience -- a realm she believes is closed off to her, even though she intermittently hopes that it’ll not stay unattainable forever.