Dancing moves to a new home

Those of you who are still subscribed to this blog at dancingpastthedark.wordpress.com, it’s time to pack for a move. Within the next day or two, the blog will take up permanent residence at the website (not simply the blogsite) dancingpastthedark.com.

Right now, the Home page of the website carries the announcement of the publication of the ebook. To read these blog posts, you have to click on the tab The Blog (top of the page).

When the move is made, the blog will take over the Home page, the book will move into its own tab space called The Book (imagine that!), and everything will look almost the same as the blog does now.

The post “Is the universe friendly?” is now up at both locations, though it looks a bit rougher at the website (I’m still working out the new system). By the first of next week, we should be smoothed out. Thanks for your patience!

Is the universe friendly?

I’ve been promising to respond with my own answer to Einstein’s question: Is the universe friendly? Needless to say, it’s one thing to pose the question rhetorically and quite another to be expected to answer it oneself, which helps account for the time it has taken to get here.

My answer is tied up in two cosmologies. First, there is the cosmology that has marked the thinking of Western civilization for some four thousand years. The second is the cosmology of today, the Hubble version. First, the ancient Near Eastern view; we still tend to think this way, especially those who are linked to Western religious literature.

I think of this cosmos as a snow globe. It sits at the very center of a large crystal globe, the latter marking the extent of the universe (beyond the border of the square picture here). Think of the rounded snow globe cover as made of insulating glass, with a space between–the firmament, a hollow shell holding the winds, snow, rain and hail, with places for the sun, moon, and planets; the inner side of the shell was conveniently fitted with windows through which God and the angels could look down at the earth and its inhabitants.

http://blog.beliefnet.com/scienceandthesacred/ 2009/08/the-ancient-science-in-the-bible.html

In some conceptions, there were doors at the east and west through which the sun and moon could appear and disappear. The Great World Ocean surrounded the Earth, as anyone who walked to the edge of land could tell. The great water surrounded the entire globe and was the source of rain and floods (“the fountains also of the deep and the windows of heaven,” Genesis 8:2).

Below the firmament was the earthly sky, shaped like a dome, as the eye can plainly see, and then Earth, a flat disk surrounded on all sides by the great WorldOcean. Below the Earth were the regions of the dead, and, in some views, a fiery place. And below them all were the great waters of the deep, and gigantic pillars, like bridge casings, that supported the firmament.

Mary W. Matthews http://witwisdom. wordpress.com /2011/10/11/ columbus-day-image-for-inerrantist-bible-believers/

Above it all, the high heavens were home to God and his light-beings, the archangels, seraphim, angels and cherubim. It was a cosmos that made such sense! It was orderly and understandable. It was secure. Though there were known to be antagonistic Powers, they could for the most part be contained. God had  deliberately created Earth to be the center of the universe, and human beings were the very purpose of that Creation, each individual with a secure niche of status and function. Was it a friendly universe? It was at least built to human scale.

You know what’s coming. And if you’ve read the book, you know my take on it. After thousands of years, the sixteenth century BCE began a ferment of astronomical discovery and technological advancement that has brought the twenty-first century to a thoroughly lopsided set of understandings. On the one hand sits the Old Home Cosmos, like the friendly little farmhouse now crowded in by shopping malls, highways, and industry.

Pillars of Creation: from 'nothing' came 'something' that no longer 'exists' (Source: NASA, ESA, STSci, J Hester and P Scowen (Arizona State University))

Right next to it sit the results of a few hundred years of revolutionary discovery, the conclusion of philosophers of science that we inhabit a mechanistic cosmos with a seemingly meaningless history, and that what we took to be deep-rooted faith in a sacred reality has been nothing but wishful thinking. And the home place itself is merely a flying ember, the coincidental cinder of a great explosion that happened so long ago as to be unimaginable.  We live in a Hubble universe.

That we are schizy with our cosmology is evident in a really interesting blog post in which cosmologist Lawrence M. Kraus of Arizona State University says, in part:

NASA, ESA, and The Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA)
Acknowledgment: A. Nota (STScI/ESA)

“The central problem with the notion of creation is that it appears to require some externality, something outside of the system itself to pre-exist, in order to create the conditions necessary for the system to come into being.

“This is usually where the notion of God — some external agency existing separate from space, time, and indeed from physical reality itself — comes in, because the buck seems to be required to stop somewhere.

“To simply argue that God can do what nature cannot is to argue that supernatural potential for existence is somehow different from regular natural potential for existence. But this seems an arbitrary semantic distinction designed by those who have decided in advance that the supernatural must exist so they define their philosophical ideas to exclude anything but the possibility of a god.

“To posit a god who could resolve this conundrum often is claimed to require that God exists outside the universe and is either timeless or eternal.

“Our modern understanding of the universe provides another, and I would argue far more physical solution to this problem, however, which has some of the same features of an external creator — and moreover is logically more consistent.

“I refer here to the multiverse. The possibility that our universe is one of a large, even possibly infinite set of distinct and causally separated universes, in each of which any number of fundamental aspects of physical reality may be different, opens up a vast new possibility for understanding our existence…

“The universe is far stranger and far richer — more wondrously strange — than our meagre human imaginations can anticipate. Modern cosmology has driven us to consider ideas that could not even have been formulated a century ago. The great discoveries of the 20th and 21st centuries have not only changed the world in which we operate, they have revolutionised our understanding of the world – or worlds – that exist, or may exist, just under our noses: the reality that lies hidden until we are brave enough to search for it.

“This is why philosophy and theology are ultimately incapable of addressing by themselves the truly fundamental questions that perplex us about our existence. Until we open our eyes and let nature call the shots, we are bound to wallow in myopia.”   http://www.abc.net.au/science/articles/2012/04/23/3481105.htm

To each his own myopia. Can such a universe be considered friendly? It is an irony that Einstein, the most famous scientist of the 20th century, is credited with asking the question, for it is one that science is not designed to answer. It is the business of science to deal with quantity, not quality.   As Huston Smith puts it in Forgotten Truth: “A number is a number, and number is the language of science. Objects can be larger or smaller, forces can be stronger or weaker, durations can be longer or shorter, these all being numerically reckonable. But to speak of anything in science as having a different ontological status—as being better, say, or more real—is to speak nonsense.”

In short, science cannot provide a friendly universe; it can provide only a description of what it observes physically: the planet Earth as a spinning bit of rubble toward the edge of a nondescript galaxy within a seemingly impersonal immensity. When Einstein asked, “Is the universe friendly?” the answer, according to materialism, has been a resounding, No!

E. Olszewski (University of Arizona)

However, the universe is no more friendly, nor any less, than it was before the Copernican revolution began all the fuss. There is as much reason to fear, or not to fear, as in the millenia before. What we know that is different is a matter of scale, of enormity beyond comprehension, of a God, for those who believe in an underlying purposefulness, dealing with significantly more than the Creation in Genesis.

And despite the necessary mathematical restrictions of scientific method, the residents of this particular bit of rubble are curiously designed to hunger after meaning and purpose. To the everlasting delight of those who are willing to notice such things, it seems that messages keep coming.

Into the universe of clockwork mechanistics, within the lifetime of most of you reading this, came word of yet another mystery. For the first time in centuries, there was abundant suggestion of something meaningful beyond the sterile materialist model. At last, there were people whose direct experience with that “something” led them to proclaim that, yes, the universe is friendly—not only friendly but loving and welcoming, and it is safe to die. It was no wonder near-death experiences were greeted like food after famine.

Look at the Hubble photos–the Pillars of Creation, the great sweep of stars looking like an angel’s wing that reminds us just how vast an enormity is, the spirals and spirals of galaxies crowding time and space through billions of light years. We feel the fear of the mortal and insignificant, what ancients sensibly called the fear of the Lord. It is all so vast, of course we are afraid! But then, the great poet Rainier Marie Rilke observed, “Every angel is terrifying.”

Creation has broken out of the gate and is running loose way beyond our little world. So how are we to live in this universe that is both glorious and terrifying, both infinitesimally small and unimaginably limitless? I think we need to recognize that in the face of such enormity, human reason is provincial at best. It may even be absurd, though poignantly so. We try to tame Creation with reasoned theories, with systems of beliefs and ideologies and doctrines like those of science and religion, systems that create mini-universes of those who are “in” and those who are “out.” But we need to remind ourselves that we are the minds and voices of Dr. Seuss’s Whoville. This is not a God to be made captive to our understandings, nor a nature to be tamed.

What I have come to believe is that, as those before us walked in their snow globe, we are called to walk in trust of this mysterious and terrifying universe. I find that I scale it to my tiny level with the lovely NDEs in mind: Just as the Hubble universe is a swirl of glory and terror, brilliance and cthonic darkness, so are our psyches. Remember, we are all stardust.

I listen to the ancient liturgy with Hubble ears. The magic is not in the details of reasoned systems, I think, nor of sanctioned images or accepted beliefs, but in our simple trust.

New book, new address for distressing NDEs

With the publication of the ebook, Dancing Past the Dark: Distressing Near-Death Experiences, this blog is moving. It will look the same, but is now part of a full-fledged website. For those of you who still use the dancingpastthedark.wordpress.com address, it’s time to change it to:

http://dancingpastthedark.com

If you go there now, you can read the book’s birth announcement!

Sitting in mythical time

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It’s Easter, and in all the churches that have been part of my life, I imagine what is going on today. There will be the welcome of joyful, loved hymns; glorious choral music from carefully rehearsed choirs; a headiness of lilies banked at the front of the sanctuary, and little boys wriggling in stiff shirts, little girls self-conscious in bright new dresses. There will be baptisms and confirmations; reception of new members; and words, words, words of resurrection, new life, renewal, promises, even salvation. It is a wonderful time of rejoicing and hope.

For one of the rare Easters of my life, I am not going to church. It feels odd, pulling deliberately out of the ritual. Today, though, I am attending to the introversion that is still new in my conscious temperament, wanting to avoid the throngs and all the joyful noise. Yes, as soon as it’s too late, I will probably regret not being there. But for now, I am simply letting Easter itself fill me. I’m thinking about resurrection, about what it might  mean, and how that becomes a shaping myth.

What led to this was reading a post, earlier this morning, from the blog Voicing Psyche. The author quotes Mircea Eliade, from Time and Eternity in Indian Thought, p. 173:

Mythical or sacred time is qualitatively different from profane time, from the continuous and irreversible time of our everyday, desacralized existence. In narrating a myth, we reactualize, as it were, the sacred time in which occurred the events of which we are speaking. […] In a word, myth is supposed to take place in an intemporal time, if we may be pardoned the term, in a moment without duration, as certain mystics and philosophers conceive of eternity. This observation is important, for it follows that the narration of myths has profound consequences both for him who narrates and for them who listen. By the simple fact of a myth’s narration, profane time is–symbolically at least–abolished: narrator and audience are projected into a sacred, mythical time.

Mythical time, it occurs to me, is the time we find in stories not only of great sacred figures like Moses and Elijah and Jesus, and of real cultural icons like Martin Luther King and psychological icons such as the Superheroes and Frodo (and now, probably, Harry Potter). Mythical time occurs also around narratives of the quite ordinary people who tell of their near-death or spiritually transformative experiences. It is that indescribable time in which the events of an “elsewhere” are inscribed into memory to be brought back into waking consciousness, where they begin to reshape lives. It is that “moment without duration,” as Eliade calls it, that becomes indefinable but imperative.

This morning, then, I am sitting in that indefinable moment that is Easter and an indefinable resurrection and its two-thousand-year memory in my people. Not a bad intemporal place to be, at all.

Holy Week, Distressing NDEs, and the Journey of Transformation

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On the calendar of the Christian year, today is the beginning of Holy Week. The events of this week, in terms of their centrality to the religion, are foundational, the equivalent of the Exodus to Judaism. (And given the close family connection between the two, there is always the dance between Holy Week and Passover, which begins toward the end of Holy Week, at least this year).

So here we are at Palm Sunday, telling the story of the joyous entrance into Jerusalem of the G_d-saturated teacher and healer Jesus with his dozen students, cheered by an unknown number of exultant followers. By Friday, their dream will be traumatically, agonizingly shattered, leaving the students scattered and wandering, his followers bewildered, grief-stricken, and lost.

It is easy enough to make a connection between where this week is going for them and how it will wind up for anyone who encounters a distressing NDE during this time. Those of us who’ve “been there” know the feelings all too well, and we don’t like where this is going. (One of my good friends, years back, finally realized that he kept seeing the classic Norma Shearer film Marie Antoinette over and over in the passionate hope that just once, she would escape the end he knew was coming.)  We want to push back, keep it from happening.

But life never gives only Palm Sunday. And as depth psychologist and spiritual director Dr. David G. Benner observes,

Although we seldom hear it presented in these terms, Christian spirituality is primarily about the transformation of consciousness and identity.

So many Christians—and so many spiritual and religious people of all doctrines—have never realized that this is what it’s all about, this transformation, and that particular beliefs or practices are merely means to that end, not the end in themselves.

(And if your feathers are fluffed because Benner mentions Christianity specifically, please keep in mind that he knows perfectly well that the statement applies more broadly, but he is writing to his particular audience.)

A transformation is something that happens between our Here and our There, calling up the metaphor of a journey. What we keep considering in these posts is the hard part of our individual journeys, the struggling part that we wish we could keep from happening. Whether that pain and struggle originates at the inside of a spiritual experience or, as with many glorious NDEs, afterward, in the days of grief and loss when the light seems gone, the hard times inexorably happen, and we are unable to change that.

Benner continues,

But one thing is clear. The self that begins this journey is never the self that ends it. The self that emerges during this journey is larger, more enlightened, and more whole. This journey is one that all humans are invited to make.

We have our own Passovers, sending us into the wilderness, and we have our own Holy Weeks, which seem like the end of everything good. Whatever made us think that the journey of spiritual transformation could be easy!

This is a good week for reflection. Who was the self who began your journey, and why do you suppose that person had that particular experience? What have you learned about yourself and the experience since? Have you allowed yourself to become “larger, more enlightened, and more whole,” or are you still fighting back?

You can read Benner’s full post at his blog, Something to Ponder. It’s brief and packed with–as he says–things to ponder. (If clicking on the title doesn’t work, go to http://ow.ly/a1mEC.)

Are these NDEs HELLBOUND?

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Christian or not, we’ve all heard the ‘hell story.’ The question is, is it true? And if so, which version of it? …Evildoers may get away with murder in this life. But in the life to come, there’ll be hell to pay.

The words are from the website of the forthcoming movie Hellbound, due in theaters this September. And in case you’re rolling your eyes, it’s not what you might think.
The website commentary continues:

But the traditional view of hell also presents us with a dilemma: Of course we all want to see the scales of justice balanced. But if God is our pure, all-loving Creator, can he really allow (presumably) billions of people to suffer in hell for eternity? Evil is evil, but doesn’t the traditional view of hell tip the scales too far the other way? To many people, it seems like we can have a good God or we can have the traditional view of hell, but we can’t have both…

The concept of hell is so ancient–and so troubling, and enduring–that we can’t in all honesty ignore it, no matter how postmodern our philosophies.

From the website, this looks like a fascinating exploration. Sorry I couldn’t just embed the trailer for you here; you’ll have to go to the website. Never mind; it’s worth the trip, also. Take a look at the trailer. It may keep you awake until September.

http://www.hellboundthemovie.com/

Making sense of an NDE, distressing or otherwise

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A reader asks, “How do you make sense of these experiences?”  Ken Ring asked me that question once, and it seemed so totally unanswerable that I gave him a flip retort and absented myself from the conversation. I’ve felt bad about that for years, so, Ken, if by chance you’re reading this, here’s a more careful response (noting that it’s taken another twenty years to get here).

First, this is one of those questions with no single answer. Like learning to swim, making sense of these experiences is something we have to do for ourselves. Secondly, it strikes me that there’s less an “answer” than a chain of realizations. However, not to sound cryptic, let me just wander through some of my observations.

To be analytical, whatever sense is made of any NDE seems to depend initially on whatever vocabulary is available to the experiencer’s thinking. This is most easily explained if we think of an NDE not as a quasi-physical event but as an event in consciousness; from that perspective, what one encounters in an NDE is a series of concepts, to which we fit whatever identities we know of.

For instance, a person who has never heard of Hinduism or its content will not awaken thinking, “Omigosh, there was an elephant in the experience—Ganesha!”  On the other hand, a non-Christian living in a Judeo-Christian culture and perceiving a loving, male-seeming. robed guide might at least wonder if the presence was Jesus, simply because the concept of a loving Jesus is so familiar within the wider culture. Likewise, people in heavily infrastructured societies report tunnels; people with no such engineered environment report similarly shaped long-necked gourds or hollow reeds. In short, step one is the hunt for descriptively appropriate labels; this may be virtually instantaneous or it may continue well into awakening. Without labels, there can be no meaning.

Once labels have been found to describe the first impression, I think temperament comes into play. Psychological testing has shown again and again that a considerable chunk of the human population operates most comfortably with definite answers to life’s questions (not a chain of realizations, but answers). They look for certainty, and if that security is not evident, they may invent it.  It appears to me that this is where ideological precepts—whether religious doctrines or secular principles—serve as answers to “what was that?” So, depending on the person’s customary belief system, whether the labels applied to a distressing NDE describe it as a warning of hellfire or dismiss it as a hallucination, if the need for certainty is sufficiently strong that interpretation will harden like concrete.

Then come all the “buts.” But, not everyone wakes up with the NDE’s parts labeled. But, not everyone demands absolute certainty. But, what if the NDE and the description provided by my ideology/religion don’t fit? But, what if the explanation given by my belief system scares the wits out of me—what then?  But, what if the labels are wrong? But, how do we know any of this? But, (fill in your own question). This is the part that takes a long time.

It is well known in near-death circles that most people’s visual descriptions of their NDEs are almost invariable over time; their accounts of sequence and impressions do not waver. However, except in those cases of rock-hard ideological certainty, interpretation of an NDE—especially a distressing NDE—is likely to develop and mature over time as new information and insights become available, and as integration progresses. This is not to suggest that they necessarily begin “making things up,” as the actual description of the NDE does not change; only its possible meanings shift.

[Note: In cases where recollections of the experience re-emerge over time, discernment will be important, testing the new memory for its validity as part of the NDE rather than a conscious add-on or “false memory.” I believe this is a particular hazard with the NDEs of children whose impressed adults press for more and more information until there remains a kernel of NDE surrounded by sincere embroideries.]

With distressing NDEs, a maturation of understanding can happen provided that the person has not fallen into an irreversible conviction of doom. In my case, what saved me from that was the innate stubbornness that has also been the bane of my life. However real that first interpretation seemed, as years went by I flatly refused to accept it as final; it was not fair, it did not fit, and there must, somewhere, be a better answer.

Others may have different trajectories; but for me,  making sense not only of my own NDE but of others, once I knew about them, has gone through a whole range of stages. First, the immediate theological labeling, then terror, then repression, depression, and a great blank of many years. And then came the studying. That was like placer mining, sifting and sifting endless buckets of information for tiny glints of gold. (The list of references in the book Dancing Past the Dark takes up sixteen pages and is incomplete.)

The first inklings came with reading William James, then Arthur Koestler, Laurence LeShan, The Dancing Wu Li Masters. Then learning of Stanislav Grof’s work with the unconscious, and stumbling through the writings of Christian and Jewish mystics. Eventually, psychotherapist Alex Lukeman’s work on dreams. Intensive historical-critical study of scripture. Still later, it was a pastor saying to me, “You do know that for many seekers the Void is the ultimate spiritual experience, don’t you?” (That was a revelation!) As was bending spoons.

And then came a primary conceptual influence: photos from the Hubble telescope. I know, the photos are objective; but my subjective response was to see that the entire universe is made up of glorious light to deepest darkness, peace to unimaginable violence, sudden bursting events and unfathomable time spans. Just like our NDEs. The elements out there are the same as the elements in us. (Astrophysically speaking, we are made of stardust.) Whether one chooses to see this as the work of some natural process or the design of a Creator, the result is the same: This is where we live and the way it’s built, and the way it works is the way it works. Whether or not we have managed to describe those workings, we and our conceptions are drawn from an infinitesimally small pinprick corner of the whole—and that reality is way bigger than our intellectual abstractions.

So, first, I see enormity.  And this enormity makes me think of the work of people like James Fowler, whose life work has been to study stages of faith, and Lawrence Kohlberg and his work on stages of moral development, and Jean Piaget and the many others who charted the stages of our cognitive and psychological development. And always, always, human development is discovered to move from the narrowest of views (centered on self) to broader ones (to include, sequentially, parent, family, school, church or other group, community, country, world). Whether involved with religious or secular faith, the path to maturity always broadens. What is restricted becomes stunted.

In other words, when confronted by a mystery vaster than our own understanding, we are challenged to give up accustomed ways of thinking and discover more comprehensive ones, to widen the view. This kind of stretching is always difficult, even when it happens naturally as part of moving, say, from being a child into being a teen, or whenever the first questions come to test authority and one’s basic beliefs.

In situations of trauma, which includes events such as natural catastrophe or an NDE, the slow, natural stretching of the developmental process jerks with shocking suddenness. Alex Lukeman has described this type of “instant revelation” as bringing “the destruction of traditional and habitual patterns of perception and understanding, including religious belief structures and socially accepted concepts of the nature of human existence and behavior.” There is nothing to do but rebuild. If the challenge is obstructed—when questioning is discouraged or doubt forbidden—growth stops; the person stays a conceptual 8-year-old or 12-year-old forever.

Yet as Fowler and others discovered, properly understood, giving up the convictions of one life phase, while it may be painful, is not loss of faith but its transformation; it is a process that leads to growth and deepening of faith, the leaving of childhood for maturity and, perhaps, wisdom. It is like climbing a mountain and seeing the horizon expand: what is invisible from the valley will open to view as the climb progresses. For those who believe that all of truth resides only in the laws of the valley, this can terrify.

For a person with a strongly materialist bent, the challenge may be to begin taking seriously all the inexplicable things that hang over the edges of the box of physical explanations—the “paranormal” that may turn out to be entirely normal but is not yet understood, the unseen workings of spirit that cannot be measured or replicated. For a person from a bounded religious tradition, the challenge will almost surely be to see beyond the edges of any single doctrinal position, to where a larger community of trust and faith waits.

The reader who asked about making sense of distressing NDEs also wrote, “In one of your articles, you write about “finding the gift in the dark”. What was that gift for you? I’m trying to hold on to my deepest experience/intuition that love is at the heart of things.”

I’m so glad she asked, because it has led me to the discovery that this entire process, this series of realizations, has been the gift. It is a destination that would almost certainly never have been reached in my life without that NDE.

A recent observation by the Rev. William C. Green may be appropriate here:

When my son turned fourteen he was puzzled by his inability to enjoy the amusement park where we’d passed many summer days. He kept going on the same roller coasters that had thrilled him. He kept riding the bumper cars he once loved. He again threw balls at moving targets to win the toys he’d been drawn to collecting. But the harder he tried to enjoy himself the more disappointed he felt. Something was wrong. Something had changed. It was time to move on.

One writer said, “All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another”… God, help us to let go of belief we have outgrown. May we move with you into the new life you have in store for us. Amen.

Shalom.

Distressing NDEs–a book! and a Multinational Discovery!

That luminous object to the left is the cover of Dancing Past the Dark: Distressing Near-Death Experiences. Yes, it’s almost here.

The digital book will be available for Nook, Kindle, and other e-readers, almost certainly by early April. For readers outside of North America, I am looking for a distributor. And for everyone who wants a “real” book in paper, that’s my next project. Hopefully there will be a paperback by the end of 2012.

Multinational Discovery

Visitor stats are providing astonishing news about the blog. Here is the summary for yesterday, March 11:

Country Views
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The day before included India and Italy. Every day, more places represented! My deep thanks to you all! Hope you come back. Bring a friend.

“Negative NDE” as insight, vitality, developmental thrust?

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May I suggest that you run, not walk, to Sheila Joshi’s Neuroscience and Psi blog, where her latest post is “Distressing psi is really misinterpreted insight, vitality, and developmental thrust.”

“I was very struck by how there are a handful of outpatient clinics in Europe and Argentina where people having distressing psychic or spiritual experiences can get help from professionals who are trained in both clinical psychology and parapsychology.

“In fact, I would go further and say that the data presented led me to think that the spontaneous psi experiences were distressing because they were being somewhat misinterpreted by the experiencers, and because they contained a developmental thrust that was very much wanted but which was also taboo.  To me, these spontaneous experiences really seemed like shoves from the Tao / infinite self / personal unconscious / spirit guides – or some combination of them all!”

An immediate question is, why has this information been so quiet–or so missing entirely–in North America?

The post also notes,

“The idea that distressing psychic / spiritual experiences might be driven by some kind of need to take the next step in one’s development parallels the strand in the history of psychology / psychiatry that has seen psychosis in a similar light.  John Weir Perry at the Diabasis center, R.D. Laing, C.G. Jung, Kazimierz Dąbrowski, the Anti-psychiatry movement in the 1960s, the Spiritual Emergency Network in the 1980s, etc. have avowed that psychosis is a crisis accompanied by much distortion, yes, but it is also an opportunity for radical healing if it is also interpreted as a source of truth and vitality.

“Why do these developmental thrusts appear in such negative guise, for example, as distressing psi or as psychosis?  One important reason…is that they involve change in self boundaries or ego …  And, unfortunately, we tend to fear this and fight it tooth and nail, even if it’s for our eventual greater happiness.”

Read the entire post here:

http://neuroscienceandpsi.blogspot.com/2012/03/distressing-psi-is-really.html