Well, I think your powerful post deserved a sincere response. It was damn brave. Regarding your point about what we are accomplishing with this parley - yes! - I completely agree. All we have is ourselves, our stories, our connections/relationships with others and the work we put into the world. All of this matters.
I love the possible connection between Freud and the Gospel of Thomas. I amused myself reading that book since I am in no way religious. I was actually talking to my therapist about the fact that "believers" have a space to go to for support - aka prayer. While I wouldn't find any solace in prayer I find myself wanting something - perhaps a ritual of sorts. I'm not looking for "salvation" (whatever that might be) but more of getting out of my head space and finding comfort in a different one. This post helped. Thank you for that.
I am comforted by ritual too. Even silly rituals like cooking Thanksgiving dinner are grounding. I'm not sure why. The unknown can certainly create anxiety. Maybe the predictability of rituals is calming?
I know our thoughts affect our bodies on conscious and unconscious levels. Erica and I listened to a great podcast on the placebo effect. Recent research indicates that it works even when the recipient knows it is a placebo! Check it out if you get a chance.
Lisa, what a beautiful post. Thank you so much for sharing your own struggles and suggestions. A lot of thinkers wrestle with mortality. I know I do. I asked a guy on an atheist website how had managed existential angst (a term I don't think captures the intensity of the experience). He said, "Drinking helps."
I will have to contemplate your quote. "Bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you." Maybe that is what we are doing in this parley? The idea is very Freudian. The crux of psychoanalytic theory is that our problems are buried in the unconscious and we need to bring them into the light of the conscious mind to work through them. I wonder if Freud read the Gospel of Thomas :-)
I just have to applaud this powerful, vulnerable post. How do any of us wrestle with our mortality. My father died when he was 40 and I was 12. It unraveled our family in ways that took us decades to recover from. Interestingly, I think the birth of my daughter and the advent of new life helped us all heal because it reconnected us in a positive, joyous occasion.
I was diagnosed with high blood pressure during my pregnancy (I was 39) and it never resolved on its own. This is a disease that can be managed through multiple variables (medicine, diet, exercise) and I've been employing all of them. Since I'm adopted, I don't know my family history but my doctors think my condition is genetic. That said, I really let that diagnosis/label re-frame my sense of self in a negative way. I felt faulty/broken with a more clearly defined expiration date. All these feelings were cranked up because becoming a parent later in life already puts mortality in the forefront of one's awareness.
I'm still working on wrangling this particular demon and reflecting on making peace with my own mortality and living life fully which makes me appreciate the gift of this post. I just finished reading a book entitled, "Why Religion?" by Dr. Elaine Pagels, a Religion Historian at Princeton. She wrote it as she reflected on how she coped during the loss of her young son (I think he was 5 yrs old) and then, 15 months later, the accidental death of her husband, Dr. Heinz Pagels who was a theoretical physicist (he wrote some books that look really interesting).
I don't know if she really answers her questions in her book but, as a scholar of religion, she shares some wisdom from various world religions that resonated with her; essentially works that expounded on the interconnects we have with one another. She talks about the Gnostic Gospels, which I had heard of but was unfamiliar with. Apparently these texts were dismissed by religious authorities (so now I'm intrigued). In the middle paragraph below she talks about a line from one (in the Gospel of Thomas) that resonated with me: "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you."
For me, a chronic fear of mortality is inherently a destroyer, a fear which suppresses living life. I'm working now to cultivate what I need to bring forth within myself. In many ways, this is much harder than facing fears of death (those cyclical thoughts can be incredibly easy for me to generate). This is more meaningful, insightful work.
Well, I think your powerful post deserved a sincere response. It was damn brave. Regarding your point about what we are accomplishing with this parley - yes! - I completely agree. All we have is ourselves, our stories, our connections/relationships with others and the work we put into the world. All of this matters.
I love the possible connection between Freud and the Gospel of Thomas. I amused myself reading that book since I am in no way religious. I was actually talking to my therapist about the fact that "believers" have a space to go to for support - aka prayer. While I wouldn't find any solace in prayer I find myself wanting something - perhaps a ritual of sorts. I'm not looking for "salvation" (whatever that might be) but more of getting out of my head space and finding comfort in a different one. This post helped. Thank you for that.
Lisa, what a beautiful post. Thank you so much for sharing your own struggles and suggestions. A lot of thinkers wrestle with mortality. I know I do. I asked a guy on an atheist website how had managed existential angst (a term I don't think captures the intensity of the experience). He said, "Drinking helps."
I will have to contemplate your quote. "Bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you." Maybe that is what we are doing in this parley? The idea is very Freudian. The crux of psychoanalytic theory is that our problems are buried in the unconscious and we need to bring them into the light of the conscious mind to work through them. I wonder if Freud read the Gospel of Thomas :-)
I just have to applaud this powerful, vulnerable post. How do any of us wrestle with our mortality. My father died when he was 40 and I was 12. It unraveled our family in ways that took us decades to recover from. Interestingly, I think the birth of my daughter and the advent of new life helped us all heal because it reconnected us in a positive, joyous occasion.
I was diagnosed with high blood pressure during my pregnancy (I was 39) and it never resolved on its own. This is a disease that can be managed through multiple variables (medicine, diet, exercise) and I've been employing all of them. Since I'm adopted, I don't know my family history but my doctors think my condition is genetic. That said, I really let that diagnosis/label re-frame my sense of self in a negative way. I felt faulty/broken with a more clearly defined expiration date. All these feelings were cranked up because becoming a parent later in life already puts mortality in the forefront of one's awareness.
I'm still working on wrangling this particular demon and reflecting on making peace with my own mortality and living life fully which makes me appreciate the gift of this post. I just finished reading a book entitled, "Why Religion?" by Dr. Elaine Pagels, a Religion Historian at Princeton. She wrote it as she reflected on how she coped during the loss of her young son (I think he was 5 yrs old) and then, 15 months later, the accidental death of her husband, Dr. Heinz Pagels who was a theoretical physicist (he wrote some books that look really interesting).
I don't know if she really answers her questions in her book but, as a scholar of religion, she shares some wisdom from various world religions that resonated with her; essentially works that expounded on the interconnects we have with one another. She talks about the Gnostic Gospels, which I had heard of but was unfamiliar with. Apparently these texts were dismissed by religious authorities (so now I'm intrigued). In the middle paragraph below she talks about a line from one (in the Gospel of Thomas) that resonated with me: "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you."
For me, a chronic fear of mortality is inherently a destroyer, a fear which suppresses living life. I'm working now to cultivate what I need to bring forth within myself. In many ways, this is much harder than facing fears of death (those cyclical thoughts can be incredibly easy for me to generate). This is more meaningful, insightful work.