I'm so glad this person brought this issue to the fore, because in looking back at my own period of depression (though not bipolar) that was triggered by multiple losses occurring in quick succession, I am beginning to understand my own process and journey. So depression was/is a teacher. The dreams I had during that period were guides that I was not entirely able to comprehend while in the midst of things...but it has become much clearer now. Reminds me of that song:
I can see clearly now the rain has gone I can see all obstacles in my way Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind It's going to be a bright, bright sunshiney day...lol!
I found this article in my search on this subject which was meaningful for me and I hope will be for him. He had wondered if there was some connection between the process of depression and Kundalini:
THE DARKNESS BEFORE THE DAWN
© El Collie 2002
One thing that comes out in myths is that at the bottom of the abyss comes
the voice of salvation. The black moment is the moment when the real message
of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light.
-- Joseph Campbell
Some parts of the spiritual journey feel as if we're lost in a wasteland,
not knowing where we are or where we're going, and wondering if we're just
traveling in circles. For long stretches of the journey, the quest requires
great self-investment for seemingly little in return. For individuals who
adhere to a particular spiritual discipline, commitment wavers during these
dry spells. For those in whom the Kundalini has autonomously risen, there is
no alternative, no possibility of backing out. Kundalini has Her own
unstoppable momentum. At times, despite the dynamism of this Force that has
reshaped our destiny, we sink into doubt. What began in fear or amazement
has gone through seasons of joy, hope, disillusionment, and despair. When,
we ask ourselves, does the process bear significant fruit? How long must we
suffer through the daily pummeling of body and psyche?
As weeks turn into months and years, our faith in the benevolence and
guiding presence of the Spirit is sorely tested. Radiant gifts of bliss,
beauty and unmistakable blessing are overshadowed by long sieges of pain,
torment and physical/emotional depletion. Even if we want to surrender to
the workings of the process, often we do not know how.
Charles Breaux says that after an initial six months of "incredible 'peak
experience,' the dross began spewing out" into his external life. He wrote:
"These last seven years have been one intense drama after another, the
deepest and darkest karmic patterns within me have been relentlessly
quickened by the power of Kundalini." At the end of his book Journey into
Consciousness, he confesses that he continues to wonder if the necessity for
letting go will ever cease.
Kundalini can give us wings to transcend the pettiness of the world, then
plunge us into the depths, daring us to find the treasure buried there as
well. In the beginning, when the Kundalini is moving upwards, Dr. R.P.
Kaushik said "it is a negative force -- it is destructive. It destroys all
your attachments, all your material possessions; it is destroying
everything," which can lead to "a dissatisfaction with everything you have."
Kaushik notes that such feelings of frustration and desperation intensify as
the energy works to clear through the six and seventh centers. "The yogis
have described this movement in a beautiful language," he continues: "The
serpent, when it awakens, starts devouring and eating everything that is in
its way. When it has gone to the crown center, then from there it descends
downwards, as a creative force -- the descending triangle or the Shakti
triangle. This is the positive movement..." (from The Ultimate
Transformation)
Spells of depression are a common feature of the transformational journey. I
am, in fact, in a funk as I write this. At times I doubt the value of
writing anything for this site and question the benefits of Kundalini. From
where I sit at this moment, it seems as if years of the process -- and of my
life in general, for that matter -- have been little more than an endurance
test.
In The Stormy Search for the Self, Christina and Stanislav Grof describe it
well:
"Not only do those facing such an existential crisis feel isolated, but they
also feel insignificant, like useless specks in a vast cosmos. The universe
itself appears to be absurd and pointless, and any human activities seem
trivial. Such people may see humankind as being involved in a rat-race
existence that has no useful purpose. From this vantage point, they cannot
see any kind of cosmic order and have no contact with a spiritual force.
They may become extremely depressed, despairing, and even suicidal.
Frequently, they have the insight that even suicide is no solution; it seems
there is no way out of their misery."
For many of us, the splendor of spiritual awakening has been comparatively
short-lived while the time spent suspended in pain seems interminable. Yet
this is the nature of the shamanic path. Of the countless interviews and
autobiographies I've read, the two most repeated words to issue from the
mouths of shamans are "spirit" and "suffering."
Shamanic Dismemberment
Give me everything mangled and bruised,
And I will make a light of it to make you weep.
And we will have rain,
And begin again.
-- Deena Metzger, Leavings
A woman experiencing a lengthy Kundalini awakening told me of a period where
she was having frequent nightmares from which she awoke screaming. All these
terrible dreams had the same theme: "they" were hacking her to pieces.
Eventually, these dreams began to change, and instead of being chopped up,
dream figures were putting her back together in a way that made her -- like
the Bionic man -- "better and stronger" than ever before.
This is a shamanic dismemberment experience, a symbolic transformational
drama which has been recognized in the wisdom traditions from time
immemorial. In Sumerian mythology, Inanna was a sky goddess who had to pass
through seven gates of the underworld, each time being stripped of deeper
parts of her being until she was naked and lifeless. In the book, Shaman's
Path, Rowena Pattee describes the Egyptian enactment of this drama in the
myth of Osiris, the pharaoh who was slain, dismembered and supernaturally
resurrected to conceive his son Horus. In the Greek mystery religions,
Pattee says that "Dionysus was torn to pieces by the Titans while his heart
was rescued by Athena, goddess of wisdom, suggestive of the wisdom born of
the dismemberment experience."
In these ancient stories, something magnificent and creatively abundant
occurs after the original being is broken apart. These myths infer that all
creation is the result of a single divine Self which has been sacrificially
fragmented. The Inuit Indians of the Arctic celebrate Takanakapsaluk, the
dismembered goddess whose severed parts form all the creatures of the sea.
And in pre-Aztec religion, the earth itself was created out of the
dismembered parts of the goddess Tlalteuctli. As the myth goes, ever since
she was torn apart and turned into the earth, Tlalteuctli she has wept and
cannot be consoled accept through the "blood" of torn open (i.e.,
spiritually consecrated) human hearts. "To sacrifice our hearts," says Kate
Duff, "is not to give ourselves away, but to keep ourselves true, by freeing
our hearts from distraction and realigning ourselves with our appointed
destinies. Ironically, we often find our true selves, and engage our souls,
when our hearts are broken, bleeding or sacrificed." (from The Alchemy of
Illness)
Those of us who are being transformed may have graphic dreams or visions of
being brutally cut up or torn apart. This phase may be preceded (or
accompanied) by visions or dreams of catastrophic disasters, such as
earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, nuclear holocaust, etc. Our primordial
fears are triggered by these scenarios. Unfortunately, some of us also have
literal dismemberment experiences when the Kundalini is purifying our bodies
and psyches. Our bones, joints, vertebrae, internal organs, eyes or other
parts of the body may be gravely affected by the process. Serious injuries
or diseases may occur which seem to be permanently destroying us.
Our very survival seems to hang by a thread. Kundalini researcher Tontyn
Hopman reminds us that "awakening encompasses both the state of being in
harmony with the Tao and the knife-edged path with its violent purifications
and sudden, catastrophic perils." The dangers of the path are not illusory,
he tells us: "Everything may really be at stake... The Spirit knows no half
measures or lukewarm adjustments. How else could a person be transformed
except through the most intense experiences?"
Anyone who has suffered a serious illness knows what a nightmare long term
disability and chronic pain can be. In some cases, other personal crises
such as deaths of family members or friends -- which sometimes occur in
uncanny clusters around the individual with risen Kundalini -- are the
hardest part of the process. Sickness, injuries, and loss of loved ones are
human ordeals that eventually confront us all, no matter what our Kundalini
status may be. But it does seem that the risen Kundalini increases the
likelihood of crisis in our lives. The Shakti Goddess will utilize
everything possible to shake us up, break us open and pare us down, casting
off everything we thought we had or knew or were.
Says Holger Kalweit:
"Many shamans were critically ill, socially unacceptable, and psychically
confused over periods of several years; during their time of suffering their
body and psyche adjusted themselves to an alternate mode of perception. This
continuous biopsychic process of transformation often culminates in
experiences of dismemberment, which represent the zenith and turning point
of inner change toward a spiritual state of being." (from Dreamtime & Inner
Space)
At its deepest level, the dismemberment experience dismantles our old
identity. It is a powerful death and rebirth process. The experience of
being stripped to bone forces us to examine the bare essence of what we are.
The divestment of everything superfluous is a fierce teaching. We learn what
is truly important and what is nonessential to our physical, emotional,
mental and spiritual survival. Loss impresses upon us the temporal nature of
life. Especially if we are ill, we are forced to let go of things precious
to us. These sacrifices, says Kate Duff, may take the form of "our savings,
marriage, mobility, or pride, even our own flesh and blood." Through these
losses, "we are reminded that nothing lasts forever or belongs to us;
everything comes from and returns to an original source."
In the most intense phases of transformation, we may be so disoriented or
physically ill that we need to be helped with even our most personal needs.
There have been periods in my process when simply crossing a room felt like
scaling Mt. Olympias. A psychic I consulted when I was having a hard time
with Kundalini symptoms insisted that I "get a business card" and
immediately set myself up as a healer. You've got to be kidding, I thought.
In the shape I was in, I wouldn't have been able to hold a job as a
paperweight.
A more spiritual way of looking at the situation is expressed by the
meditation teacher, Shinzen Young:
"If Nature (or 'God') has given you so much pain that you cannot do anything
else other than be with it, then there is a message here: you are not
expected to be doing anything else! In other words, spending time -- even
long periods of time -- just feeling pain is a legitimate calling in the
eyes of God and Nature. Assuming that you are making at least some effort to
purify and evolve consciousness by being with pain in a skillful way, you
are engaged in productive and meaningful work." (from Break Through Pain)
Young goes on to say that not only is this inner work valuable for us as
individuals; it is also a psychic contribution to the rest of the world:
"...whenever a person does something, it makes it easier for others to do
that thing, even though the others may have no direct contact with or even
knowledge of the original person's work... According to this theory, a
person isolated and cut off from contacts, who is working to purify through
pain, is in some way making it easier to all other sufferers in the world to
do the same; a worthwhile and meaningful job indeed!"
With this understanding, Young encourages us to "sacramentalize" our pain by
regarding it "as a kind of imposed monastery or sacred ceremony."
Anthropologist and mystic Felicitas D. Goodman notes that Siberian shamans
regarded dismemberment as an essential phase of initiation for healers. To
her surprise, Goodman discovered that this archetype seems universal. In her
trance work with Westerners, those who had spontaneous dismemberment visions
were invariably destined to become various kinds of healers.
The world around us falling apart in times of crisis parallels the
psychological fragmentation which already exists within us. "One of the
major themes in the literature on the transformation of consciousness is the
notion that the disjointed, separated, fragmented parts of the psyche can be
and need to be synthesized into a harmonious, integrated whole," Ralph
Metzner reminds us. Often it isn't until our life is in shambles that we
become aware of the parts of ourselves which have become dispossessed. "In
the core of our being we are singular and unified; at the surface of our
interactions with the world, we are multiple and dispersed," says Metzner.
"In transformation we seek to recover that original unity." (from The
Unfolding Self)
This is precisely the task of shaman, as Joan Halifax explains:
"The shaman is a healed healer who has retrieved the broken pieces of his or
her body and psyche and, through a personal rite of transformation, has
integrated many planes of life experience: the body and the spirit, the
ordinary and nonordinary, the individual and the community, nature and
supernature, the mythic and the historical, the past, the present and the
future." (from Shamanic Voices)
Completing this restorative rite is serious business for the soul. Says
Kalweit:
"The lonely struggle with the forces of nature, during which one is at their
mercy for better or worse, is a requirement of shamanic training, because
only when the apprentice becomes aware of his smallness and helplessness,
when he becomes modest and humble, can his spirit blend with these
tremendous forces. An awareness of the interwoven mystical unity of nature
is an essential experience during initiation of of the shamanic view of the
world in general."
"The cure for dismemberment," says Metzner, "is re-membering: remembering
who we actually are." As Halifax puts it: "To bring back to an original
state that which was in primordial times whole and is now broken and
dismembered is not only an act of unification but also a divine remembrance
of a time when a complete reality existed."
The positive side of the dismemberment experience is that it eventually
leads to a "resurrection" -- a higher state of spiritual development. The
darkness which had seemed endless and impenetrable is at long last revealed
to be simply a very hard passage -- the proverbial tunnel, at the end of
which is a beautiful, welcoming light.
The Long Haul
All of this wisdom evaporates pretty fast when one is suffering. Yet I've
noticed that my darkest periods frequently precede a breakthrough of some
sort. They seem to be a means of emptying me so something new can fill my
cup. A longing for death can mean that we are approaching a turning point.
We have reached a place of nothingness which seems barren but is in
actuality a realm of dormancy, a wintering of the soul without which there
can be no spring. "Right before a change, we encounter all our obstacles to
that change," counsels Caroline Casey. "This is known as a `sunset effect':
as the pattern goes down, it glows most vividly." (from Making the Gods Work
for You)
Everything that lives follows its own internal rhythms of growth and
decline. The Kundalini process also develops in cycles of expansion and
contraction. The state of expansion may give us a taste of the eternal, but
we're not home free. As Roberto Assagioli says:
"Such an exalted state lasts for varying periods, but it is bound to
cease... The inflow of light and love is rhythmical as is everything in the
universe. After a while it diminishes or ceases and the flood is followed by
the ebb." (from Psychosynthesis)
It can help to understand that the first stage of any transformational
process is chaos. Things blow up, fall apart, go berserk. In alchemy, this
chaotic phase is referred to as the prima materia which forms the basis of
the work which will eventually produce the "gold" -- the desired outcome (or
spiritual treasure). "The prima materia is in a state of conflict all the
time," astrologer Liz Greene explains, "blind, potent, undirected, but full
of raw power and constantly embattled." (from Dynamics of the Unconscious)
When we find ourselves in this initial phase of transformation, everything
is precarious. The old anchors and safety nets no longer hold. We feel
confused, miserable, hopeless. Cultures more attuned to the cycles of nature
regarded adversity as a possibility for growth. The Chinese word for crisis
is wei-chi, meaning a perilous opportunity.
Often, the more radical the transformation, the more severe the crisis which
precedes it. Shamans and spiritual teachers have long understood this
principle: the greater the initiation crisis, the greater the potential for
beneficial growth. As Z. Budapest puts it: "Turmoil is fertile soil
necessary for the soul to find eternal wisdom, insights, and eventual peace
of mind." Of course, there are no guarantees. Initiation is never totally
predictable or safe. The glamorous idea that Kundalini initiation is an
internal refuge of bliss is quite misleading. More often, as Alice Bailey
warned, our initiations are expensive rites of passage, bringing upon us
"increasing work and increasing responsibility."
"Lest we have considered difficulties and darknesses for too long and become
a little dismayed," advises Michal Eastcott, "let us remind our selves that
the truth of this promise is always before us every night -- it is then, in
the darkness, that we see the stars." (from I : The Story of the Self)...cont'd
http://www.elcollie.com/st/darkness.html________________________________________________________
Incidentally, There is a movie which I have never seen by Ingmar Bergman titled, Winter's Light. Has anyone seen it?
I think it's about this process.