The bus episode

I took a bus to get home from the gym this evening. I like to use public transport even though I live within a walking distance from that place. In Russian buses there is usually a special person, the ticket collector, who both sells tickets and checks whether you have one. As I was standing inside the bus looking into the window I suddenly heard the ticket collector's yelling at someone.

She screamed, "Get off the bus now! You want the entire bus to smell like you?"

I looked there and saw that the ticket collector was yelling at an old homeless man who sat there; and there was indeed that garbage stink of a person who haven't washed himself for weeks. The homeless man looked at her and said stubbornly and somewhat fearfully, "But I have paid for a ticket! I can leave where I want."

As the bus was approaching the bus stop the woman started to scream hysterically in the loudest way possible, "GET OFF NOW, YOU STINK! IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO BEAR YOUR STINK ANYMORE! DO YOU WANT ME TO CALL THE BUS DRIVER NOW TO GET YOU OFF THE BUS BY FORCE?"

To which the homeless man repeated, "But I bought the ticket. I can leave where I want. I will leave on the next stop."

The woman continued yelling; and the man said, "Calm down, I'm leaving on the next stop anyway." The ticket collector understood that she can do nothing to get rid of this dirty old man and went to the farthest part of the bus.

The man left the bus on my bus stop. This particular old homeless man looked intelligent, he might even had a university education (as many people who lost their homes do), and I wonder how hard it was for him to get money to pay for one ticket to use the privilege and ride wherever he wanted. I also wonder whether he left the bus on the bus stop he originally intended or he just felt uncomfortable and didn't want to annoy the ticket collector.

In Russia, as in so many parts of the world, homeless people have no rights at all. It is in  a huge contrast with the developed Western countries such as Finland where homeless people receive money from the government (about €500 per month in case of Finland). Once, when I was in Helsinki, my friend pointed a person in the street to me and asked whom do I think he was. I had no clue; and he said that's a hobo. I was shocked because most Russian professors dress worse and look poorer than this Finnish "hobo." (In fact many Russian professors barely receive €500 per month while the prices are not that different.)

When I told someone about this bus episode I had tears in my eyes.

What about the day we stop slaughtering our finest impulses?

A beautiful quotation I read a few minutes ago in the blog of one of my favorite fiction writers and magicians Johnathan Carroll. Carroll quotes Henry Miller who said,

Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.

In my observations we most certainly do slaughter our finest impulses on a day-to-day basis. It doesn't necessarily refer to writing a poem or painting something beautiful. The finest impulses that we suppress may include the things we want to say, the moves we want to perform, the feelings we want to express. In some cases it emerges as a blockage in the throat, as if you were about to say something but then started to clear your throat and remained silent. In many cases we don't claim the destiny for greatness that belongs to us and settle due to our damaged self-esteem, an attachment to a false self for a lesser path or a path that is alien to us.

I hope an occasion will emerge to write extensively about Jonathan Carroll's magical novels that  helped me to rediscover my soul and make my soul presence stronger. His books have been very influential in my life—and I'm speaking of the magnitude of influence that at some point equals to that which, for instance, Ken Wilber's ideas have had on me (which is huge). Incidentally, in one of the older blogs Carroll writes about Wilber the following:

I was listening to a lecture by Ken Wilber about consciousness. He mentioned something I had never thought about. Yet as soon as I heard it, my mind jumped on its horse and rode off in all sorts of interesting directions. Wilber said one of the profound differences between mankind centuries ago and today was that in the past because a person was born, raised and usually died in one community and rarely left, their exposure to religious/spiritual ideas was limited to what was taught or believed only in that community. In modern times, particularly now with the ubiquity, width and breadth of the internet, a child in a remote community in, say, Mali, can learn in an instant about Buddhism, Christian Science, or Zoroastrianism. Sure, in the past missionaries from the various religions were sent out to the four corners of the earth to try and convert the heathen. But they were only individuals here and there. Now all that's needed is a computer and a modem and huge numbers of people can have their most fundamental beliefs challenged or changed—in an instant. I have always been fascinated by the idea of what we might be or have been if we were simply exposed to it. We would have been firm Catholics if we'd learned about that belief when we were most receptive to religious teaching. Or a great chess player if someone had only taught us how to play as children. How about a world class baker if we hadn't had a Mom who hated to cook and anything to do with the kitchen. Wilber extends that idea way way out—to God. Never in a million years would I (says the person in Mali, for example) have thought God or religion could be conceived in ways that contrast so hugely with my own. But now that I have learned about some of them, my world view and life could change profoundly (June 28, 2009).

I remember how amused I was when I accidentally opened Carroll's blog and found this post. I even spontaneously wrote him an email expressing my gratitude for his books and a joy that he, too, is getting somehow influenced by integral ideas as expressed by Wilber. Don't know if the email ever reached him though for I haven't received a reply (probably, it got lost among the tons of other fan mail). Let me quote most parts of it here:

Dear Jonathan Carroll:

I'm clinical psychology student from Russia (if I manage not to drop out on my senior year, of course). But that's not the point of this letter. The point is rather different. I'm in love with your books. I read everything I could find translated in Russian… and I'm waiting for an opportunity to buy your English books and re-read everything once again. It also happens that I'm scholar of Ken Wilber's works. It also happens that my life, my dreams, my soul, and the fabric of whatever happens in my world seems to me as being closely interlinked with the things I read. And I still can't quite figure out whose works influenced my today's consciousness more -- yours, Ken's or Neil Gaiman's. (Sorry, but I gotta admit that I'm a big fan of Neil's works, too.)

Anyway, during these two weeks, among other things, I finished reading three books. Your Bones of the Moon, Neil's InterWorld (actually, finished reading it just an hour ago), and Ken's One Taste and The Marriage of Sense and Soul (it was the first time I read those in English [and I read the former some years ago in Russian]). Freaky enough, I find that the taste of all these books is somewhat similar. I have that bad habit of immersing into whatever I read and attempting to intuit the possibilities towards greater and deeper dimensions of psyche and consciousness in it. For instance, I always sense a lot of transpersonal and transrational stuff (which doesn't look prerational to me) going on in your books, not to mention the play of Jungian-like archetypes and so on; and when I read your books, Neil's books, and Ken's books there's that unmistakable state of deeper translucence that makes all the dimensions of dream-and-reality dialogically interpenetrate—at least in my worldspace. For me your stories are keyless gates to deeper, broader states of consciousness. Believe it or not, this unmistakable recognition of the great story narrative supportive towards awakening of one's own deeper potentials is what I have always found as striking features in both your, Neil's and Ken's books. And it's even that I have been wondering whether it is possible that the art you're all working on is essentially of the same transcendental and transformational nature, pointing towards deeper dimensions and depths of the soul.

I am pretty sure that what both you and Neil are doing as artists is what can be called a contemporary transcendental art, transcendental because it transcends and integrates fragments of realities, be it the realities of waking & dreaming or realities of persona & shadow or realities of ordinary and transordinary. Ken Wilber, when speaking of integral art (you can find an essay on art here and there; see also two beautiful chapters in his The Eye of Spirit), said an interesting formula: Bad Art Copies, Good Art Creates, Great Art Transcends. Alex Grey, a famous integral artist (whose paintings have been of guidance for me), writes:

Ken has stated numerous times, and I agree, that art is an essentialized worldview, or as Bachelard called it, "a metaphysics in a moment." Over the millenia, culture has embodied worldviews that both express and guide the attitudes of the people. As artists, we need to be conscious of and responsible for the views we transmit through our work. We need to use all the tools available to re-invent and invigorate our field, and to my mind, Ken provides the amazing tool of a worldview that makes peace between the quarrelsome territories of science, art and religion. After the dissociation and alienation of artists and their communities over the past 120 years, Wilber's integrative approach holds much promise. He has lead the way beyond current post-modern thinking toward an integral approach to art, toward an art of the soul.

I would say that your art has done exactly that to my injured Russian soul that wanders in the wastelands of a collapsed country which has been experiencing a cultural disaster for more than 100 years. Your stories have been very helpful in terms of healing my soul and awakening it towards the deepest potentialities of its individuality. I remember thinking: there's gotta be something in common among these guys, I feel it with my heart, now what I need is evidence that I'm not making this up... So it was quite a surprise to read your CarrollBlog 6.28, in which you mention "listening to a lecture by Ken Wilber about consciousness." I was very delighted, because synchronicities play a very profound role in my life stream. It was "an accident" that I decided to browse your website (which I usually don't do), after reading that Neil's book in the period where everything I do is closely intertwined with Ken Wilber's philosophy. This is no accident that Ken calls himself not a philosopher... but a storyteller, a Kosmic storyteller. And I think of the universes you unfold in your stories as of the Kosmic stories as well; for me, they are visionary stories that open doors to something which is ready to emerge but is not yet here. . . .

I hope this email reaches you; and you'll have time to read it and perhaps even to respond, if it touches you. As for myself, I'm relieved, for I knew that I'm not crazy in sensing that what you do isn't simply an art confined into its own boundaries, and what Ken does isn't simply a cognitive philosophy confined to its own boundaries... everything becomes fluid, dialectical, and translucent. Which is groovy, indeed! Whenever I get your book or Neil's book or Ken's book, they always and instantaneously become my top priority in reading list; and I basically stop doing everything else besides reading, because these stories always offer gems of a deeper awareness. This is why I'm very grateful for being able to enjoy the brilliance and writing genius of all of you.

Kind regards,
Eugene Pustoshkin

Now I'd like to come back to the first point about slaughtering our finest impulses. After I posted what you have hopefully read above I went on reading Carroll's blog. There is one post that he wrote that I find right on money, so I am going to quote it:

I was reading an issue of MEN'S JOURNAL magazine. The lead article was "100 Things To Do Before You Die." On the list were things like climb Mt. Everest, parachute from a plane, hand feed a shark, etcetera. I skimmed the other things they suggested should be on everyone's list. I had no desire to do even one of them. So then I thought is there anything I'd like to do before I die that I haven't done yet? Hypothetically if someone is living fully, they're doing what matters (or is important) to them whenever and however they can. There's something pathetic about having to make lists of tasks to do before you die so you can be sure that by doing them, you will have really "lived." The Japanese say "live every day as if your hair was on fire" and within realistic bounds, that sounds just about right. Most of the time we know almost as soon as a situation arises whether we will later regret not doing it. We also know most of the time that despite the many fearful, well behaved inner voices telling us not to do something, that we should ignore those voices and just go ahead and do it. Because when we do it and it works, it makes us bigger and life richer. If it fails, we hurt for a while but generally then heal and move on. You don't need to climb Mt. Everest to have led a fulfilled life. You only have to have the courage, and usually it is only small courage, to say yes. Say yes and do something when your first, second and third instincts may be to say no because that frightens me (March 18, 2010).

Indeed.

Anaesthesia psychica dolorosa

In order to complete my graduation research I interview and conduct psychological testing of depressive patients at the V. M. Bekhterev Psychoneurological Research Institute, which is situated in an industrial district of St. Petersburg, Russia, the city where I live. Some time later I want to tell here the story of Vladimir Bekhterev (1857—1927), the founder of this institute, who in the beginning of the 20th century embraced a truly integral framework, attempted to integrate individual and social psychology, neurology and behavioral studies, materialism and spirituality in a unified gesture of his works. Bekhterev was a person of profound spiritual insight, possibly having a stable access to witnessing consciousness; he is also known for his studies on the subjects of telepathy, clairvoyance, hypnosis, and  other altered states of consciousness. He was a founder of some of the major schools of the Soviet psychology. It is rumored that he was murdered by Joseph Stalin after assessing him as mentally ill. But all of this in a hopefully forthcoming post; right now I want to speak about something else.

With depressive patients I conduct a simple semi-structured interview that I designed based on The Integral Intake form created by Andre Marquis. Since I am doing an empirical research at this point and, therefore, am not working with the patients as a consultant or a therapist I significantly shortened the number of questions. In general, however, I am attempting to make a survey that touches some points that are essential to my research in all quadrants (psychological, behavioral, social, and cultural, including inquiries regarding patient's current state of consciousness, education, professional background, sleep behavior, destructive and self-destructive tendencies, sociocultural activities, religious attitudes, the meaning of life, and so on). (Initially, I wanted to do a different kind of research involving the state of consciousness assessment but it appeared that I didn't have enough time, tools, and support to complete such an investigation prior to graduation. As you may see, I still inserted some of the questions regarding the first-person experience into the qualitative part of my study.)

In the beginning of the week I interviewed a patient diagnosed with recurrent depressive disorder. A woman, 27 years old, has two kids. One of the striking features of her current state, based on her first-person account, was acute depersonalization, a condition that was historically called anaesthesia psychica dolorosa. This condition is characterized by painful mental insensibility, apathy, anhedonia, alienation from the self and others, lack of emotions, feelings, and concerns for oneself and relatives (in this case, including husband and children). She characterized her state as the state of "emptiness," "lack of feelings," "lack of love." This lack of feelings causes acute psychic pain, an overwhelming feeling of loss, of missing something important. This leads to intensifying questioning of the purpose and meaning of life and whether it is possible to continue living in such a disturbed state of consciousness.

During the clinical interview I asked a usual question in this case, which is about whether she currently experiences suicidal thoughts. She replied affirmatively and stated that in February (before being hospitalized) she actually made a suicidal attempt (took some pills) because she didn't want to live anymore, life was meaningless. After the interview, when I read her case file, I haven't found any mention of suicidal attempts or dangerous self-destructive tendencies, which was surprising because these are foundational data that must be gathered during the medical history examination by a psychiatrist (and, in the case, it is repeated over and over that there are no dangerous behavioral tendencies observed). I informed the local clinical psychologist, a graduate student with whom I collaborate on this research, and asked her to tell the doctor about these findings of mine, that this woman's behavior should probably be observed more closely. I also rated her very high on the clinical depersonalization scale (it was actually the first time I used that scale); and the tests results came also with very low scores in all essential indexes. All of it I sent by email right away. The response I got was that the doctor was aware of the suicidal attempt and "it was demonstrative" (no mention of it in the case file) and he was also aware of her suicidal thoughts (while the case file stated no dangerous behavioral tendencies). Today, I received an email from the clinical psychologist saying that in the morning the patient attempted a suicide by cutting her wrists (fortunately, unsuccessfully), so I was right when raising my concerns regarding her current psychoemotional condition. The patient is now under a special observation. 

Now I'm left with mixed feelings. It was the first patient whom I interviewed of whom I am aware that she attempted a suicide afterward. In fact, I read a case file of another patient whom I interviewed on the same day in which there was a doctor's note (dated the next day after my interview) that the patient feels better. Obviously, I don't think that the simple interview and attention of psychologist (i.e. me) was the crucial factor, but I think the change was at least in some ways supported by the interview because usually by the end of the interview patients leave seemingly in a better state than that which I observed in the beginning (as in that particular case). In the case of the suicidal patient she was very fixed on her depressed emotional state and showed little, if any, improvement by the end of the interview. (Pharmacotherapy, according to the patient's subjective account, didn't seem to help alleviating her interior pain either.)

Every time I meet patients for an interview it is always a challenge for me, because on the subtler level of communication I become increasingly aware of the qualia of the state of consciousness the patients are in; and I attempt to give full space to this state in my awareness. Most of the time after meeting especially strong cases I recognize shifts in my own mood and state of consciousness. I haven't learned yet how to minimize these effects; and I am not sure they must be minimized. As one my friend said, in the process of any kind of healing the most valuable gift is the pain one suffers. Pain is what is usually an authentic connection to experiencing reality; anything else may be more of an illusion.