Stream of words: Sylvia and Ruth

I want to write more stream-of-consciousness, but I haven’t done that in so long. Here goes...

Sylvia Plath, an author, a poet, a woman who loved words and wanted to die. How does Sylvia connect to me and my experience? I am a woman who loves words. I am a woman who has been diagnosed with a mental illness. But, I don’t want to die. I love to live and I want to live and I seek eternity in my prayers. My illness is a wonderful though frightening experience, confusing, but mystical. I miss it sometimes and that seems weird to me if this illness is supposed to be so scary or bad. But, I have never suffered from Sylvia lows, only Hemingway highs. The highs are like a whole new world perspective opens up, the heavens open up and I feel connected and as if God is in my very presence. Perhaps I suffer from Joan of Arc madness. Of course, I’ve read that there is a story of three different outcomes when experiencing God. When experiencing the full presence of God, they say, some die, some go mad, and some walk away in peace. Perhaps, I received only a taste of the presence and I went out of my mind.

Mark 3:21 is a comforting text for me because when I was coming out of my illness I read this verse and it touched me. [And when his family heard it, they went out to seize him, for they were saying, “He is out of his mind.” Mark 3:21] I felt peace and I felt understood. I cried. I felt like this man, Jesus of Nazareth, must be able to understand what I went through with my family. They tried to take me away considering me mad/insane/crazy. They said amongst them-selves, “She is sick again.” And as they wheeled me along I sang aloud, “Crazy person coming through.” They wheeled me in a wheel chair through the halls towards the psych ward at the UM Hospital. “Crazy person coming through,” I sang to them in full awareness of my words.  

The twelve steps are wonderful…

Step 11: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

I try daily to improve my conscious contact with God as I understand. My husband wishes I didn’t care about God so much…he says he liked me better when I was spiritual but against religion. But, how can I be against religion when it is the study of the bond between humans and the divine. And sublime nature is a beautiful thing. I am reminded of Frankenstein and the descriptions in that story of the sublime. The weather and the natural setting, the wilderness, the forests, the landscape, the storms raging…and I seek nature, to be in nature, not this concrete jungle, because I find God when I’m in nature. I refuse to be contained away from nature in a hospital ward. Joan of Arc also refused to be contained in a prison cell for life, “Give me freedom or give me death.” And they thought Joan of Arc was a crazy person coming through. Give me freedom or give me death.

What is death? Death is a part of life. Like darkness and light, we have an awareness of it. We can see darkness and the difference between darkness and light. We have awareness. We also have an awareness of the difference between death and life. But, God created the darkness to divide the day (in the poetic, metaphorical story of creation). And we should not be afraid of darkness because it makes no difference to God. God is beyond the darkness and the light. And God is beyond death. I do not fear death (not all the time, anyways). I fear separation from God and love and life. Perhaps, those are not lost when death comes? Sylvia might not know because I’ve heard suicide does not produce the same after death experiences as natural death can cause. But, I don’t want to speculate or think about those things. I’d rather focus on life on earth today, right now. Do you think that there will be an end of days, a time when peace on earth will reign? I hope for that day. I pray for heaven on earth. I believe that promises will be answered especially if they come from God. I’m rooting for the kingdom to come to earth in my generation, and I can only try to be a part of that process.

And Prayer. Prayer is a wonderful thing. Prayer enables the soul to connect to a higher power. The breadth and the depth of mystical experience expand through prayer. Meditative prayer; Charismatic prayer; Petitioning prayer. I think prayer as a way of being – as in prayer that is in and around everything I do, and in and around my being. Sometimes, when I write, I feel as though I am praying. Or when I read, I feel as though I am praying. Because I feel that God is there in the word. In the beginning was the word and the word was with God, and the word was God. All things that have been made were made through Him. And the word became Flesh.

I’m sorry that I write so much about God now. It is my passion, my heart, and my love. I am obsessed because it is real. And it is a way for all that my heart desires. You see, I desire justice and an end to oppression. Women’s studies and feminism are pathways that I chose to follow to find justice and an end to oppression. Through feminism I view the Bible and I see that there is justice streaming through the words in the book and a way to an end to oppression. “I am the way, the truth, and the light,” he said. A professor of mine once told me that Jesus was the first feminist. But, I find that the struggle to end oppression is seething through the words of the scriptures. I find unity in my search for justice and ending oppression with my faith and spirituality. That is why I love to write and think and talk about God – because God shares my interest in ending the oppression that exists on earth. There is no place for oppression in the Kingdom of God. Connecting to something greater than myself is a crucial step in the process of mental health and well-being, in my activism, and in justice.

Feminism is the struggle to end sexist oppression. In the sentiment of sexist oppression, really all forms of oppression are held. And God is working to end all forms of oppression. So, let your God be my God (I say to the Jewish people, with my middle name – Ruth.) I say this wishing I was Ruth and knowing that the stories of the Bible are living words that can apply even to me – a young woman in the Midwest, U.S., reading stories and being deeply touched.  If I were to choose a woman to admire, a woman to follow, I think I might choose Ruth. I think about Sylvia and Ruth. I think about a woman, like me, who loved words, but who wanted to die. I think about another woman, like me, who loved Naomi’s God, and wanted to live. I love words and I love what I have seen of God. I choose to join in life, to say, “Let your God be my God.” And I choose to live with God – I love life, despite my illness. I am a feminist but I am not Virginia Woolf or Sylvia Plath. Perhaps I am Ruth and Joan.

Baby Blues

A cool breeze flows through the open window. The wind gently touches the dry winter leaves and they rustle in the breeze. I can smell the sweet ink on the journal page from thoughts written on paper. I just finished meditating by focusing on my breath, so I am slightly more aware of each breath I take now in the aftermath of meditation. The whirring of air provides background music and the scratching pen on paper, the harmony.

I knew a man named James, we called him Jim. Jim was a carpenter. He was a very large man, balding, with a bulb shaped nose and thick glasses. Despite his size, he was so timid he was almost hard to notice. He had bright blue eyes and long eye lashes. Not many people ever looked at his eyes, because he was not an attractive man and he was always looking down. Jim told me about the love of his life - a beautiful woman who was in a wheelchair. They fell in love and got married. He said that half the people who came to the wedding came because they couldn’t believe in such a pair. She died years ago. Jim was in the psychiatric unit with me. He was going through electric shock therapy at the hospital. After a few days getting to know him better, Jim said that for the first time in years he experienced one full day where he did not think about ending his life. I remember I would ask him to show me his “baby blues,” and he would take off his glasses and blink his lashes at me, smiling. He had a heart of gold and was a wonderful man. If you could only look past his outer looks, and see the man inside. I told him, “Jim, we’ve been talking and saying that you are a diamond in the rough.” He humbly smiled and said thank you. I miss Jim and many of the people I met at the hospital. We were each experiencing our own mental health crisis and I believe that God was there with us – a magnetic force that guides us through. Harold Kushner writes:

If depression is the “dark night of the soul,” God is the magnetic force that guides people through the night and brings them into a brighter world…I assure them that love and strength are not like bank accounts that grow smaller as you use them. They are like muscles that grow stronger with use. And I urge them to rely on God to renew their strength so that they can go on working and not grow weary.” (The Lord is My Shepherd, Kushner, p. 70)  

My form of mania feels so intensely spiritual and so precious and sweet. I want to say to God’s presence, “Stay, thou are so sweet.” 

Small Discoveries in Palatial Texts

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1) I like these words. To an English major, a lover of the written word and great conversations, this kind of poetry sounds so sweet. Fania Oz-Salzberger and her father Amos Oz in their book Jews and Words write: “But if there is any chain at all between Abraham and us, it is made of written words” (p. 42). Now, this concept fascinates me. The lineage of the word passed down from generation to generation, recorded and shared with the world is fascinating. There is something special about the link of the Word to God, and of Abraham to us (even those of us who are not Jewish can understand the chain of written words from Abraham to the present day).

One of my favorite classes in undergrad was called “Reading the Bible from the Margins”. As a feminist, I am familiar with the critique (and indeed the raging anger) at the traditional norms that have oppressed women and that stem from patriarchal interpretations of the Bible. I am closely familiar with the oppressive gendered norms that are so prevalent in the Christian religion. I also recognize traditionally oppressive gendered norms in other religions as well. However, I have been taking another look at the Bible with a fascination of the textual twists towards those in the margins – often women – living in certain realities at the time the words were written. The Hebrew language is a language that holds multiple meanings in English. The stories in the Bible often have more to say than what meets the eye. Biblical words have been passed down from generation to generation to teach the children who teach their children. These living words are more beautiful than any geographical or architectural or cultural design I can think of.

Of all the cultures and religions I have learned about, Judaism seems to have a deeply founded relationship with both the written and the spoken word. Even in the early days, Moses received tablets with words inscribed on them for the people. Whether it is true or not that he actually had the tablets, this emphasis on the written word is interesting. Oz-Salzberger and Oz write:  

The grandeur of ancient Israel is not a matter of cities and kings. Material life may well have been crude, buildings rough-hewn, and clothing course. Solomon’s splendid palace may well be a flimsy abode, a fib or a fable. In all honesty, ancient Jewish architecture is not a major point of pride.

But the texts are palatial.

Genesis, Isaiah, and Proverbs are our pyramids, our Chinese wall, our Gothic cathedrals. They stand undemolished in the flow of time. They have fed a plethora of offspring: from Mishnah to Haskalah, from medieval Sephardic poetry to Modern Hebrew Literature, from Gotthold Ephraim Lessing to William Faulker, all were able to drink from those deep wells. (p. 113)

Those of us who grew up on the words in the Hebrew Bible are offspring of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Some of us may not have genetic ties to Abraham, but we are children of the texts. My fascination with words in religion stems from my Christian upbringing. Christianity is the religion I am most familiar with and is part of the lens I use to view religion and the written word. Christianity is part of my cultural perspective. My parents and my childhood upbringing ensured that. However, I also earned a Masters degree in Women’s and Gender Studies and grew up in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Feminism is another part of my lens that I use to view the written word. I love women and am fascinated with how women are portrayed in writing and how women are in reality – which can be so beautifully varied and diverse.

Recently, my sister, my mother and I watched a mainstream movie, “Snow White and the Huntsman”. It is a tale made popular by the Brothers Grimm and by Disney. It is a story of a virginal white young woman who is kissed by a handsome prince and wakes up from a cruel spell put upon her by an evil step-mother. So often the heroines in American culture today fit into a set type. I grew up with stories about beautiful young heroines who become princesses like Cinderella, Belle, Ariel, and Jasmine. Disney makes a fortune on perpetuating the commercialization of princesses. Young girls grow up on stories that teach them to desire to be young, beautiful and snag a handsome prince – which is so disconnected from reality. As our girls grow up, they watch stories on TV of young pop stars rising to fame and fortune because of their beauty. Another important element to these stories is that there are rarely older women who are positive role models for these young girls. The evil witches or evil queens are typically the antagonist in the stories. Their mother’s are usually dead. In pop culture, one can only imagine how mothers feel about their daughter’s over-sexualization on TV. But, the mothers of the pop-stars are usually silent; hidden behind the scenes.  

And what about the biblical heroines written in stories that I grew up with? While there are strong, quite valid, feminist critiques against the patriarchal norms in the Bible, I find something refreshing in the biblical text. The women portrayed are varied and diverse. In light of the dominant secular American culture, I find the diversity of heroines is striking: Sarah, Hannah, Deborah, Hagaar. There are prostitutes, old barren women who become pregnant, slave heroines and manipulative queens which are among my favorite heroines in the Bible. I also admire the dark nameless beauty in the Song of Songs, and in the New Testament, the preferred sister Mary who sat and learned from her teacher while her sister Martha anxiously cleaned the house. In patriarchal texts and born into patriarchal societies, the numbers of diverse women that are named and their stories that are included in the Bible are many. Oz-Salzberger and Oz write:  

   

They do not follow the Greek pattern—either goddess or mortal heroine. They do not follow the medieval pattern—either saint or prostitute. They do not follow the European pattern—aristocracy, bourgeoisie, or lower class. They do not follow the British pattern—upstairs or downstairs—although their tents are sometimes as intricate as a manor house. The Bible’s women are so variegated that they simply inhabit a full human spectrum. (Jews and Words, p. 70-71)

In the written word, as compared to pop-stars on TV and in movies, physical beauty is only found in descriptions and in the mind of the reader. There is no concern about weight or wrinkles or gray hair in the written word. The heroines are heroines because of what they do and what they say. I prefer the stories and the lessons of these famous female heroes that have passed down through the generations from Abraham to us today.

The traditional view of women can be offensive and anger provoking. Maimonides wrote in Mishneh Torah, “For there is nothing more attractive for a woman than to sit in the corner of her home, as ‘All the glory of the king’s daughter is within’.” He stated that women should remain in the home and not go out and about more than twice a month. This appears to be a very sexist, chauvinistic text. But, I prefer to interpret his insights and the quoted Psalm 45:13, in a different way. I like the idea that all the glory of the daughters is within. But, I don’t think this means in the home in the traditional sense. When I think of “within,” I think of an internal state of being. The beauty within is the glory within a person’s heart, soul and mind. The beauty of women is within. This interpretation is relieving to me in a culture soaked with idealized external beauty types. Also, the cornerstone is an important part of a building - the most important part. If a woman’s place is found within, in the corner of the home, I would argue that this means in the key place of the foundation of where she resides. By reside, I mean as her place in the family or in society. With this interpretation, the woman is no longer a subjugated housewife sitting in a corner of a home, but actually, the most beautiful pillar of the foundation of the people. She sits in the cornerstone, the key to the foundation, and her beauty is not fleeting physical beauty, but an eternal beauty within. All the varied women heroines in the Bible from the prostitute to barren elderly women show strength, a claim to what is their right, and a chutzpah within. And that is true beauty.      

Women are often (not always) the purveyors of culture. Men have historically been absent with the children and only teach by example of hard work or absence. Women (mothers, day care providers, nannies, etc.) tell their children stories. Women have historically taught children by getting their hands dirty (literally with diapers and figuratively with lessons). But, I see a disruption in these traditional gender norms. Women and men are taking new roles in the family. I have focused on women, but as for the men, the last verse in the Old Testament (the last of the Nevi'im in the Hebrew Bible) says this: “He will restore the hearts of the fathers to their children and the hearts of the children to their fathers, so that I will not come and smite the land with a curse.” (Malachi 4:6) This is an interesting message for a society filled with single mothers and absent fathers. If we take the words as a critique of society as is, the words have much to teach. Both men’s and women’s honor can be found in the hidden corners within these perennial pyramids of biblical text. Words were there in the beginning and will be here to the end.     

"A Breath of Wind from the Wings of Madness" - Baudelaire

It was a breath of wind from the wings of madness. Perhaps it was more like a gust of wind that knocked me off my feet. “Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?” (- Frida Kahlo) Unconventional Frida: she dressed like a man for family photos; she read and wrote about revolution; she lived authentically. She rejected mainstream norms and in her paintings revealed a truth about an inner reality. I see something in her that I have, or I wish to have, in myself. I want to participate in creating social change. I am tired of the oppression and stigma that paralyze innocent people in our society. I heard that a wise prophet once said to a paralyzed man, “Pick up your mat and walk.” Can change be that easy? The oppressive forces in our society do not allow one to pick up and just go. How can we create change and fight invisible forces like stigma, power and oppression?

I have a reality that I am allowed to keep hidden because I look white and female and “normal” to the outside observer. But, the truth is I have been diagnosed with a mental illness. “Bipolar disorder” is the label they gave me, stuck on me, and will forever stigmatize me – but only if I let it be known. I can choose to keep this hidden and avoid judgment. Yet, I want to live authentically and I want to fight for change.   

Even though I’m mentally/emotionally paralyzed, I want someone/something/some power to heal me. I want someone to tell me to pick up my mat and walk. I want to love others and create change. But, I don’t want the kind of change that white missionaries (or white settlers or Euro-Americans or Europeans everywhere who are obsessed with “saving” and changing others) try to make. I don’t want to create more oppression. I want oppression everywhere to end. And I cannot use the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house.

How does one fight against oppression? How does one fight for revolution, for an end to racism, stigma, judgment, and power? Lois Beardsley, a Native woman, writes: 

“There is no way to know in advance. Racism, stupidity, hatred, hunger for power – they do not come with road signs. They do not come with billboards. They do not come with flashing lights. They do not come with blaring horns, attention-grabbing sirens, GONNA HURT YOU written backwards so we can see it in a rearview mirror. Abusers do not necessarily come in a different cloth from the common man. They do not necessarily come with their intentions posted on their foreheads, etched upon their long toothed trickery, which is unspoken in the silent beckoning motions of their hands. Abusers are born of tradition, tradition of history, tradition of eminent domain, manifest destiny, slave holding, low-wage-paying, advantage taking, murdering, homesteading, let’s not forget.” (p. 8, The Women’s Warrior Society)

How do we fight a hidden, silent, difficult-to-recognize enemy – a “meme” – born of tradition and history? Ability/Abilism. Race/Racism. Class/Classism. Sexuality/Gender/Sexism. I feel a brewing, a burning in my heart. I feel a frustration, a discontentment, and a deep longing that I am afraid of because I need to take care of my mental health but I also can’t be mentally healthy in a society like this.

I remember a time…time in the psych hospital. I felt so free there for a moment. I let my hair loose. I wore no make-up. I danced and laughed and cried whenever I felt the urge inside me and all expressions of being were ok in that place; that psych ward in the hospital. I was “crazy” after all and could do or say anything I wanted. My only punishment was a lifelong sentence - a diagnosis. And now? Now, what have I become? I take my prescribed dose of medication every day. I fix my hair. I carefully apply make-up in the mornings. I am married to a good, middle-class man. We might as well have a white picket fence outside.

The world can be open and wonderful, expansive and has room for everything under the sun. And I don’t want mainstream, banal, submissive life. I want color and music and love and diversity. I want my children to grow up with role models and examples of all different ways of being. I want more from life than the mainstream. I feel as though I have almost everything – and want none of it. There is a force inside me that is bucking like a wild horse; there is within me a breath of wind from the wings of madness.

Instilling a healthy racial/ethnic identity in our youth

We have been given a daunting task. As a case worker for youth in the foster care system, we are expected to help instill a healthy racial and ethnic identity in our young people. How does one instill a healthy racial and ethnic identity in a child? How does one even know what that looks like?   

I have been taught that there are four stages of racial/ethnic identity development: Relative Unawareness, Emerging Awareness, Exploration/Identification, and Commitment. All people move in an out of these stages – sometimes returning to one or the other, sometimes staying stuck at one stage for long periods of time. The first stage, relative unawareness, is one where race is not seen as very important, stereotypes are believed, and one identifies primarily with the dominant white culture. The second stage moves into an emerging awareness where one notices that race matters, that people are treated differently, and this comes with feelings of confusion, guilt, anger, shame, depression, or self/group appreciation. The third stage is an exploration/identification process where people begin to distance themselves from mainstream culture and actively define for themselves what race/ethnicity means to them. The last stage, commitment, involves developing positive feelings about ethnicity, confidence and security about racial identity, and acceptance. This also includes a commitment to eliminate all forms of oppression and an openness to acquire new knowledge and skills regarding race/ethnicity.

Before we begin the task helping children develop healthy identity, we must take a stark look at our own progress in racial identity development. I completed a masters degree in Women’s and Gender Studies – a field that examines systems of oppression and works towards developing healthy racial, gender, sexual, class identity. As a white woman, I have come through different stages of racial identity development. Throughout this growth process, I find that I continue to return to prior stages and back to commitment again. This includes feelings of shame, confusion, and struggle. Feminism was my way of distancing from mainstream culture to find a more socially just way of living. It was a way for me to develop my gender and racial identity in our current society. It is my way of staying committed to anti-racism and to end oppression. However, people often ask me, “What is feminism anyway?” and “What does feminism have to do with race?”

Feminism has many definitions. One definition is that feminism is the movement to end sexist oppression. Feminists and others have found that sexist oppression cannot be disconnected from other forms of oppression. Oppression is the absence of choices. Oppression's many forms are interconnected. Our children in the foster care system experience an absence of choices in many areas of their lives. Add race to that. Add class to that. Add sexual orientation. Feminism is a movement to end these forms of oppression – it includes an examination of race.   

In 1919, WEB DuBois wrote, “The uplift of women is, next to the problem of the color line and the peace movement, our greatest modern cause. When, now, two of these movements—women and color—combine in one, the combination has deep meaning.” Uplifting our children who experience oppression in these different forms has deep meaning. Even though this was said almost 100 years ago, I would still say that ending the many forms of oppression is our greatest modern cause.

Being a woman has shaped and influenced my life in a variety of ways. In many other ways, however, I am privileged. I am privileged for being white, college educated, and middle-class. bell hooks writes: “Privileged feminists have largely been unable to speak to, with, and for diverse groups of women because they either do not understand fully the interrelatedness of sex, race, and class oppression or refuse to take this interrelatedness seriously.” We MUST take this interrelatedness seriously. Especially when trying to help our children develop healthy perspectives of themselves.

I believe that all people have power. People can use their power to resist exploitation and oppression. People can use their power to gain the freedom to work at transforming society so that political and economic structures will exist to benefit all people equally. The unequal society in which we live affects all of us and our behaviors. In his book Race Matters, Cornell West writes: “We must acknowledge that structures and behavior are inseparable, that institutions and values go hand in hand. How people act and live are shaped—though in no way dictated or determined—by the larger circumstances in which they find themselves.” Although structures influence our behaviors, we don't need to allow social institutions to dictate or determine how we act and live. We can work towards building healthy racial/ethnic identity.  

We live in a racist society, no one can deny that. I now turn to my children in the foster care system. How can we prepare them for the discrimination they may face? How can we instill in them healthy identity and perspectives – for both white children and children of color? We must talk about it. We must have courageous conversations with the young people. We must ask questions. Don’t ignore the problem. For the sake of the children, we must join the anti-racism movement to transform our society into a more equal and just society. This begins with an examination of our own identity and working towards instilling a healthy racial and ethnic identity in our youth.   

Assumptions

“One of the conditions of enlightenment has always been a willingness to let go of what we thought we knew in order to appreciate truths we had never dreamed of.”

– Karen Armstrong

This quote reminds me of something my best friend once said. “I love when my assumptions are proven wrong,” she told me. I am working to let go of my preconceived notions about the world, and appreciate new truths as they become revealed through insight, discernment and wisdom. My best friend and I grew up together in a cult-like religious community. This group started in Ann Arbor, Michigan as an evangelical outreach to students at the University of Michigan. It grew and became more and more restrictive. People began to interpret scripture literally. This rationalized interpretation of religion has resulted in a very modern phenomenon: fundamentalism. My best friend and I saw fundamentalism first hand. Men were not allowed to change babies’ diapers; women had to submit to the will of their husbands. Many women in this group gave the authority of God to the men in their lives as their “spiritual leaders.” I confidently rejected this fundamentalism and all that came with it.  

To accept dogma on someone else’s authority is “unskillful.” We must gain our spiritual understanding through our own quests, rather than giving that power away. Midrash is a concept meaning “to go in search of,” “to investigate,” and “to go in pursuit of something undiscovered.” There was very little midrash in the cult-like group we grew up in. Midrash requires constant reinterpretation and the ongoing, never-ending process of revelation. We need to be open to new revelation and work towards constant reinterpretation of truth, and we must direct our insights to the needs of the present day. We need midrash in our religious and scientific communities. I believe that discovery is ripe in the modern day scientific community, while our religious communities are frantically nailing down myths as truth. St. Augustine believed that whenever the literal meaning of scripture clashed with reliable scientific information, the interpreter must respect the integrity of science or he would bring scripture into disrepute.  

            I came across an interesting story about a teacher and a student trying to understand Brahman. The teacher told the student to put a lump of salt in a beaker. The student waited overnight and in the morning he could no longer see the lump of salt. Yet, the salt was still present throughout the water in the beaker. This is Brahman – the inner self in the world. Yajnavalkya, a seventh-century sage, explains:

You can’t see the Seer who does the seeing. You can’t hear the Hearer who does the hearing; you can’t think with the Thinker who does the thinking; and you can’t perceive the Perceiver who does the perceiving.

What is this Brahman? What is this unseen Seer? I rejected the fundamentalist religion of my childhood. I have assumed that I know certain things about the world.   

While in school at the University of Michigan, I worked at a Middle Eastern restaurant. My bosses gently but passionately hoped that I would come to believe in Islam. I listened to them with great curiosity, but have not been able to accept any specific religion due to my upbringing and exposure to fundamentalism. Karen Armstrong writes about kafirun aka “infidel” or “unbeliever.” This word has been misunderstood in its modern day usage. The root of this word, KFR, means: “’blatant ingratitude,’ a discourteous and arrogant refusal of something offered with great kindness.” I wonder if there is something out there, something like an unseen Seer, an unheard Hearer, and an unperceived Perceiver that is being offered to us with great kindness. I am trying to let go of what I thought I knew in order to appreciate new truths.

The Danger of a Single Story

This is a very interesting 20 minute video that my friend sent me from her Anti-Racism Conversation Group. Chimamanda Adichie speaks about the dangers of telling a single story about people or a group of people. She talks about writing stories as a child and how powerful literature and stories can be. At the end, Adichie talks about resilience and people's ability to thrive despite challenges. I wrote my masters thesis on the resilience of people involved in the mental health system - another group about which we cannot tell a single story. Her speech is moving and insightful.

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story.html

Check it out!

Does Nature Prove God: Excerpts from C.S. Lewis’ book The Problem of Pain

For a time, I believed that nature and science scream out evidence of God’s existence. My sister read the Tao of Physics and we had long discussions about nature and God. Just look around at sublime nature! The order within chaos of the earth among the stars blows my mind. Just looking at the Grand Canyon or the Swiss Alps or the ocean seemed proof that God exists. After much thought and reading, I am now calling that belief into question.  

Let’s look at the reality of nature – not an idealized version. The spectacle of the universe and nature is not so sublime as it is terrifying! With the consistency of death, pain and suffering among animals and humans just to survive, with black holes, and with the utter emptiness of the universe around us, all evidence points to a very dismal reality. Is God nature and revealed by nature? In the Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis writes: “The spectacle of the universe as revealed by experience can never have been the ground of religion: it must always have been something in spite of which religion, acquired from a different source, was held” (p. 13). Could it be possible that the revelation of God comes from outside of nature and science?     

Also, where did we get the idea that life on earth should be good, peaceful, and sustainable? Our very sun that gives us life is a ticking time bomb. Death beckons us at every corner. Where does our sense of outrage and injustice at suffering come from? I see children, animals, and innocent people suffering every day. I feel rage at the injustice in our world. But, where did that sense of injustice come from?

C.S. Lewis writes: “In a sense, [a righteous Lord] creates, rather than solves, the problem of pain, for pain would be no problem unless, side by side with our daily experience of this painful world, we had received what we think a good assurance that ultimate reality is righteous and loving” (p. 21). A small part of me believes in a just and righteous God. And if there is a God, I can’t believe in one that is proven by or synonymous with nature and science. At the same time, I want an answer to the suffering I see, because it seems wrong to me. I wonder, though, if the suffering in our world is enough to make one stop believing in God.  

Sometimes, during my depressed times, I mourn the suffering in the world. During these moments, all the world seems to be calling out in a composite suffering and it breaks my heart. C.S. Lewis makes another profound point. He writes: “…search all time and all space and you will not find that composite pain in anyone’s consciousness. There is no such thing as a sum of suffering, for no one suffers it” (p. 103). The greatest amount of suffering in the world is the suffering of one person at a time. This is no small amount and I mourn any amount experienced by others (and myself!). I actively work to end suffering. At the same time, there is comfort in putting suffering into perspective.

I have heard of the Jewish concepts of “Ein Sof” (the Deity prior to self-manifestation in the spiritual realm) and “Seder Hishtalshelus” (a concept similar to the Great Chain of Being - a chain-like process connecting the spiritual realm to the physical realm). These are interesting and new ideas to me. If there is a God, perhaps God is outside of nature, connected to us and intervening in our lives. But, if God is not nature or proven by nature, then where is the evidence of God’s existence? To this, I don’t have an answer.  

Changing Perspectives: A belief in the biology of mental illness increases public stigma

http://schizophreniabulletin.oxfordjournals.org/content/30/3/477.full.pdf

"Mental Illness" - too spicy a term?

I was listening to NPR the other day, and Robert Siegel was interviewing author Ralph Keyes about his book, Euphemania: Our Love Affair with Euphemisms. They discussed how words change over time and that we constantly (and creatively) come up with new words to tiptoe around things that make us uneasy. Robert Siegel said:

“In his new book about euphemisms, Ralph Keyes takes me back to browsing through a book on my parents' bookshelf about 50 years ago. It was a psychology text, probably written sometime before the Second World War, probably for some education course my father took. And it described the precise ranges of IQ that defined an idiot, a moron and an imbecile.

“My father instructed me that those terms and the broad category that included them all, the feeble-minded, were old ways of saying what we now said more properly. Such people were not to be called feeble-minded, idiotic, imbecilic or moronic. They were to be called retarded, mentally retarded. It was only deep into adulthood that I realized after using that word, that phrase, that it had become completely unacceptable.

“So it goes with euphemisms. One generation's version of polite and scientific is the next generation's standard for ham-fisted and defamatory.”

Describing people with mental illness is no different. Words like “lunatic,” “insane,” and “mad” have evolved from time to time trying to make it easier to describe people who experience symptoms of depression, mania, psychosis, shifting moods, and strange thoughts. So, right now maybe it’s easier or more politically correct to call people who experience these symptoms “mentally ill”, but even that is beginning to shift.

At a recent conference, Charlie Morse, who runs the suicide prevention program at Worcester Polytechnic Institute in Massachusetts, stated, "I think we have to stop calling everything 'mental illness.' It stigmatizes people who have depression or anxiety, the ubiquity of suffering that we all experience. Mental illness, describing depression, is the same word used to describe schizophrenia. It drives people underground."

My problem with Morse’s quote is this: it is basically saying that schizophrenia gives depression a bad name. Many people think of schizophrenia or bipolar as the really "bad" mental illnesses - the true "crazies." This quote is basically saying that by calling everything "mental illness," we aren't distinguishing the crazies from the mix. Has the term "mental illness" gotten too spicy?   

Ralph Keyes writes: “As we’ll see throughout this book, euphemisms are created in a wide variety of ways and for a multitude of reasons. This usually involves reducing the temperature of overheated rooms. The hotter the topic, the cooler the words we rely on to discuss them…Therapists, self-helpers, and recovery groups have given us a bonanza of mild euphemistic terms to take the place of spicier ones.” 

With events like the Tucson shooting and shootings at Virginia Tech, the room is getting hotter. People are starting to feel the spice of the words “mental illness.” And people are calling for a change in the words we use. No one wants to be associated with people who experience symptoms of depression, mania, psychosis, shifting moods, and strange thoughts. “Mental illness” is the politically correct way to talk about people who experience this range of symptoms, but surely with time, this name will change.

I’ve heard that there are hundreds of words for describing snow. I don’t care if we come up with hundreds of more ways to describe “mental illness.” Call it the “blues” or depression, “madness” or bipolar and schizophrenia. As far as name calling goes, I have no problem with creativity, new words, new definitions, or more distinguishing definitions.

Ralph Keyes stated on NPR: “You know, when Shakespeare called the sex act, making the beast with two backs, we had a very creative mind at work.” I don’t have a problem with “fucking” or making the beast with two backs. In fact, I find it quite pleasurable. Call it what you will. To Charlie Morse I will say this: As far as the ubiquity of suffering goes, I have great compassion. Of course we don’t want to stigmatize those with depression or anxiety. Of course! What I have a problem with is the stigma, the vitriol and fear, surrounding mental illness in general (and around schizophrenia specifically). Changing the name will not take this away. We must find another way.