You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘psychic change’ tag.

At 7:45 A. M, I awoke with this curious dream:

It is night. I’d spent the day in a great hall with a large mixed group of people who completed several important projects. Before leaving for our homes, a priest informs us that the archbishop wished to give us an ice cream bar. 

The night always symbolizes the end times that usher in darkness, the unknown. More than ever with the imperceptible increase in my symptoms, I move closer to the end time of this existence. With full consciousness, I still strive to adhere to my daily routine of self-care that include blogging and reading David McCullough’s John Adams (2004), and receiving the support of my helpers.

The great hall suggests my psyche’s unclutteredness, spaciousness, a place for working and playing. The large mixed group of people speaks of my harmonious energies dedicated to the completion of several important projects, symbolic of my ongoing purification, in preparation for my transition.

The priest, disguised as a messenger for the archbishop/God in disguise, announces our reward: ice cream bars: rich vanilla, coated with chocolate and pecans. They look yummy. At first, I avoid their milky softness and sugar, triggers for joint inflammations in my body. Then, I learn this is a different kind of treat:

As the psalmist proclaims, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

It’s true. My waiting continues …

I intended to begin these reflections on sin with yesterday’s blog on my thievery, evidence of my flawed nature and part of the human condition. Only when I began working the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous did I understand the full implications of honesty.

I still remember my first meeting, September 16, 1991, at the Lindell Club, across the street where I lived. Not knowing I was a newcomer, the chairperson, a cab driver, asked me to read the opening, “How It Works” from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. Tucked in the first paragraph was this sentence: “…There are those, too, who suffer from grave emotional and mental disorders, but many of them do recover if they have the capacity to be honest….”

I identified with those grave emotional and mental disorders: it was my behavior they were referring to, disorders, I later recognized as sin; and rigorous honesty, its antidote. A whole new world opened before me that demanded relating with the new God of my understanding. And so it has been ever since.

Yet, it was a painstaking to own the drift of my destructive instincts for social recognition, security, and sexual fulfillment—all riding atop fears that I would lose what I had or would not get what I wanted. Daily contacts with others in recovery also helped identify my Seven Deadly Sins, and the way out, through admission and forgiveness.

However, the Seven Deadlies still lie dormant in my unconscious and can be triggered, any time—Anger and pride remain troublesome, given my long terminal illness.

Such exercises in rigorous honesty help me name the sinfulness of our broken world that I’ll consider in the next blog, with its antidote: global conversion of heart.

Coils of barbed wire leaf out and produce a nine-petaled orange flower: such is the poignant design on the cover of the memoir The Choice – Embrace the Possible (2017) by Dr. Edith Eva Eger, an Hungarian-American survivor of Auschwitz.

Sustaining this teenager through ever-present death threats for eighteen months was her mother’s counsel, “You’re responsible for whatever you put in your mind. No one can take it from you.” Another factor was her life-plan with soul mate Eric enlivening her imagination, filling it with song and dance.

Yet, after the author’s 1945 liberation from the death camp, narrated within the first sixty-nine pages of this memoir, impenetrable evil continues weighting the balance. No matter what, Eger would be the free woman she was destined to become, without Eric, without her parents and grandparents, without her language, without her country.

But how return to life? What about the residual psychic wound, stalking beneath her ghostly shudders, dreams—this wound repelled by language’s efforts to make sense of it? How live with her senses having been saturated by the gruesome? Even others assault her Jewishness in other countries. Yet, decades of harrowing psychic cleansing empowers Dr. Eger to say to us: “…I would love to help you discover how to escape the concentration camp of your own mind and become the person you were meant to be.”

In my perception, Dr. Edith Eva Eger achieved a depth of psychic freedom few experience in this life. How privileged we are to have her memoir The Choice – Embrace the Possible that shows us how to change.

Available on Amazon

%d bloggers like this: