My Child Shelby (November 14, 2004)
My daughter Shelby's depression began at age 13 and soon presented itself as anorexia so severe that she had to leave home and school and enter a treatment facility. Thus began five years of treatment in three different facilities, and with several doctors around the country, always accompanied by many and various medications.

The only changes she experienced were behavioral ones as the anorexia grew to include binging/purging, self-cutting and drug abuse. Shelby gave me more insights into her depression and consequent behaviors than the doctors were ever able to do. She would say that the treatments targeted her body and her mind, but never her "spirit." When we tried to discuss this with her psychiatrist, she suggested that we contact the hospital minister. Throughout her ordeal, Shelby kept a journal where she would often speak with God, whom she never blamed. Even so, I could only watch in desperation as the bright and beautiful light of her soul gradually dimmed and was extinguished. She died of a drug overdose at age 19.

Today's discussion dealt directly with the elusive topic that we knew was real and could/must be addressed in treatment (in life). We were never able to find direction or even someone who could talk to us about this aspect of depression. We always had such hope that the answer was there somewhere. When Shelby died, this hope died, but today's discussion shows me that this is a topic that is being considered by others. Thank you.

Jann Ferris
Vicksburg, MS (WMPN, 91.3 FM)

A More Colorful Person in My Faith (November 17, 2004)
As a listener familiar with depression I appreciated your program today on "The Soul in Depression." The interview with Parker Palmer was especially insightful and encouraging, hearing how one who already has faith dealt/deals with dark times. All too often within the Christian church there is an underlying or even overt assumption that once you know Christ and salvation, depression cannot have any hold on you. If you only prayed more, or repented of a, b, or c.

My own depression is under control through diet, exercise, medication, and counseling, but I believe it has, as Mr. Porter I think would agree, brought my faith to a deeper level, given me spiritual insights that I might not ever have come across otherwise and certainly made me more understanding to those who suffer this sadness and anxiety, something certainly at the heart of Christ's message of love of faith. Though not wished for, my depression is part of who I am and I am a deeper, more "colorful" person for it. Thank you for addressing this issue.

Ann Graf
Milwaukee, WI (WUWM, 89.7 FM)

Dealing with my Father's Death (November 16, 2004)
Thank you for the recent program on depression that aired in Baltimore on Sunday. The show aired exactly one year to the day in which my father died. I suffer from depression and I appreciated the comments about the helpfulness of medication. I think one of your guests stated that medication can allow us to return to ourselves. How true for me!

When my father died, I was very fearful of dropping back into a deep depression. My psychiatrist indicated that as long as I stick with the medication protocol, I should be able to deal with my dad's death as me (Dave Leiter). This was in fact true. Needless to say the timing of your show on Sunday was a great help to me. Thank you. I also appreciate the topics you deal with every week but this one was uncanny and hit home in a unique way. Keep the shows coming!

David Leiter
Linthicum, MD (WYPR, 88.1 FM)

Crosses to Bear (November 18, 2004)
I enjoyed your program on depression. I especially enjoyed listening to Parker Palmer's dialogue and thoughts. I feel frustrated, however, over something he said in an ernest attempt to differentiate suffering and the cross. I don't know that I agree with what he stated about "false crosses" versus what might be paraphrased as "legitimate crosses" to bear.

I interpret his description of "false crosses" to be those wounds to our soul which are related to narcissism. I agree that these wounds must be worked through. I also believe that these are the wounds which the Christ figure comes to not only accept but to indeed, work through and eventually let go of. He no longer remains stuck in the Puer Aeternus mode for he does not remain on the cross. Perhaps crosses have all "shapes and sizes," some lasting a lifetime and some we eventually are relieved of. Perhaps this is part of the mystery of life and the soul. Thank you again for your meaningful and interesting program. Continued success to you.

Steve Johnstone
Tucker, GA (WABE, 90.1 FM)

Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit (November 15, 2004)
My personal research into Gnosticism recently offered some insight into one of the Beatitudes that always bothered me: namely, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." I used to think, "Oh, swell… that means there's no surcease from depression till I die!" But the Gnostics believed that the Kingdom of Heaven existed here on earth (and throughout the universe), and that to find it required a journey into the depths of oneself, where one would see that the essence of one's being is light (i.e., energy), and that one is, therefore, part and parcel of the universal Kingdom.

I now read that Beatitude to mean that the poor in spirit are (albeit unwillingly) especially able to find that inner light (or vitality, as Palmer said so well) because we are forced to struggle with the darkness in order to find life. Which reminds of another wonderful line from Solomon's book: "The unexamined life is unavailable to the depressed."

Jean Rawson
Rockville, MD (WETA, 90.9 FM)

My Soul Aches (November 17, 2004)
When I first was hit with my clinical depression the way that I was treated by my employer (which was a religious institution) was almost worse than the depression itself. I felt that my soul had been raped. While I have tried to talk about this over the years, it hasn't really clicked with anyone. While I have abandoned my religion, my soul continues to ache. Thank you for introducing me to others who struggle with this. It has provided me with other ideas, words, and ways to ponder my pain and lack of willingness to disempower it.

Lyn Malofsky
Milwaukee, WI (WUWM, 89.7 FM)

A Light Shines in Darkness (November 14, 2004)
Thank you for your inspiring and informative program today. I am in the midst of yet another wrestling match with the dark angel myself. Whilst lying in bed listening to Ms. Barrows read from Rilke, warm and welcome tears flowed. This was a good thing. I knew my capacity for fellow-feeling was still striving for expression and communion with others. These tears became like an anointing oil, or a spiritual lubricant helping me to resist the frictions that would prevent me from even the will to write this e-mail. You should be proud of your work today.

Bill Herd
Ogden, UT (KUER, 90.1 FM)

Stopped in My Tracks! (November 14, 2004)
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, I was stopped in my tracks! Anita Barrows voice reading "Questo Muro" was sweet and full and true. It fed me like good oatmeal of the soul. Many thanks to her generous self for the hard copy now by my elbow…! Gifts, gifts! As she says in "Heart Work," "sometimes an abundance"…. Gratefully received.

Emily Wallace
Bethlehem, PA (WHYY, 91.0 FM)

The Paradox (November 14, 2004)
How absolutely bizarre that what I feel today, listening to the bold, articulate voices of my fellow survivors of depression, is so opposite from the experience of depression itself. Listening to the program today, I felt connection, community, and a reminder of the deep bittersweetness that only we who have experienced depression can know. This bittersweetness is composed of the rare knowledge that only we share—that humans can emerge as gentle, strong, loving creatures, after the horror, after the living death.

I have gone through severe depression twice now, I'm now 24. The first time my goal was to purge myself of the horrible blackness—to wash it away and become myself again, to return to the innocence and purity I had known before.

This last time, I chose a different path. I have decided that I will love this thing, I will give it what it needs. I will hold it and be patient with it, and perhaps wait all of my life to hear what it needs to say. I have been so terrified of the madness, of the cognitive disarray—what it does with my life and my sense of love. But as [Parker Palmer] says of the creature in the woods, I have learned that what I thought was my soul is a construct. What is truly my soul is much deeper, and it is all of ours; it is universal, and it never goes away.

If only we could speak to ourselves when we are in that state. If only anyone could speak to us and convince us of the truths that emerge only afterwards. What a mystery that it can't be done. May we each have that true friend—someone to rub our feet and wait with us.

Andi McDaniel
Minneapolis, MN (KNOW, 91.1 FM)

Beautiful Words (November 14, 2004)
Thank you for the beauty of the language — both the poetry and the prose of the contributors — Parker Palmer, Anita Barrows, and Andrew Solomon. Simply, glorious.

Elena Garcia
Miami, FL (WLRN, 91.3 FM)

The Closer You Are to the Darkness (November 16, 2004)
I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed Friday's program on the "The Soul in Depression." My friend, a beautiful woman inside and out, has suffered for years with depression. I listened intently to the music, the poetry, and Parker Palmer with her in mind. She is a writer and published author. I think that observation, "…the closer you are to the light, the closer you are also to the darkness" holds true. I have forwarded her info on how to listen to the program. Thanks for all you do!!

Charlotte Miller-Greenizen
Clayton, NY (WSLJ, 88.9 FM)

All the Useless Beauty (November 14, 2004)
I love your program. Each week touches me deeply and I am always surprised how much each week's topic provides me to reflect on. This week's program on depression was a perfect example of that. Much of the discussion was about the hard-won clarity that is finally left when one is reduced to a "bottom point" of the depression cycle. For me, however, my time with depression has taught me not to trust my sense of guilt for my emotional state or my envy for those who seem to be happy.

Half in jest, but aware of some truth in my jest, I recently said to a friend that we need a church that devotes half of its scheduled worship to despair and whatever, in the context of faith, would be anti-beauty. Maybe this would be something as "unacceptable" as holding services in the town dump once in awhile. I ran across the idea that the Christian cross should be a horrific symbol for the Church in James Carroll's Constantine's Sword, I am sure it is much discussed in other places, but I was struck by his equating the use of the cross to putting an electric chair or an oven from Auschwitz behind an altar. Despite Mel Gibson's efforts, I don't think this deadly symbol is really given its proper place as the horrific symbol it is.

If I may paraphrase simplistically, Palmer Parker's description of his growth beyond a belief in the natural tendency of faith to move to perfection was the connection for me to my jest. I believe that part of the answer to the dangerous trend in our world of seeking political solutions to religious certainty and to compensate for the longing for a perfection and entitlement that can come from that certainty is to understand that depression and despair are integral to God's plan. If this were truly included in popular religion, the vocabulary of faith and the form of worship would be incomplete without integrating these difficult areas into daily practice and worship.

To quote Annie Dillard badly, "We should be wearing crash helmets and seat belts as we invoke the powerful forces of God." Maybe it should be called a contemplation of the awe-full and the awful. In faith, we can survive and often thrive, but maybe we should not expect to win in any terms we might measure. God is not a referee. There is no holy whistle to end the game. Finally, faith is its own reward.

TS McLain
Sherman, CT (WNPR, 89.1 FM)

Availability of Passages (November 14, 2004)
Thank you for making your material so available. I wanted to get the text of the Tarrant quote because I couldn't copy it fast enough—and there it was. After some years in lay Christian community and complete burnout with church, I am finding nurture in Thomas Moore's The Soul's Religion and his book prior to that, Care of the Soul. Perhaps you would consider having him on your program. I appreciate your presence; I know few who are interested in the soul's journey but it is so real. Thank you for your work.

Gayle Turner
Washington, DC (WETA, 90.9 FM)

I Am Not Alone (November 13, 2004)
It was heartening to hear Parker Palmer speak about his depression on your program. As someone who suffers from clinical depression and has many of the feelings of self-loathing and lack of a sense of worth that accompany the disease, it made me feel better to hear such a great author and thinker has struggled with some of the same problems I have.

Eric Nunn
Tabor, NJ (WNYC, 820 AM)

Quiet Voices (November 16, 2004)
I am so thankful that this topic is being discussed. My church is quite verbal about depression, and specifically how faith interplays with depression. This greatly contrasts many of our experiences in other faith settings, where depression is a punishment for sin or a sign of weakness. I also have written a piece about interaction of my faith with depression that a friend hopes to publish along with other people's experiences. These are quiet voices that do not get heard very often. I hope this conversation continues and receives more recognition.

Anna Resele
Minneapolis, MN (KNOW, 91.1 FM)

I Am Not Alone (November 13, 2004)
One aspect of depression that I would like to see explored more is the relationship of an individual's depression to a society that fails to allow for full expression of an individual's essential nature and fails to satisfy his/her essential needs. When these are thwarted, some become depressed. A sick society produces sick people who need medicine to feel better. Good for the pharmaceutical companies.

David Brahinsky
Newtown, PA (WHYY, 91.0 FM)

The Embodied Mind (Soul) (November 14, 2004)
I heard your program this morning and thought you and your listeners might be interested in the cognitive science revolution with respect to the body in the mind. There is a short bibliography on my web page, but there are many other web sites with fairly comprehensive lists:

• Mental Spaces, Mappings in Thought and Language by Giles Foconnier
• The Act of Reading by W. Iser
• The Body in the Mind by Mark Johnson
• Metaphors We Live By, Philosophy in the Flesh by George Lakoff and Mark Jonhson
• More Than Cool Reason by George Lakoff and Mark Turner
• The Tacit Dimension, Personal Knowledge, Meaning by Michael Polanyi
• The Literary Mind by Mark Turner

Margot Miller
Easton, MD (WYPR, 88.1 FM)

Depression and the Soul (November 14, 2004)
A highly timely topic for me, one of my friends still present, and at least three of my friends past (deceased, one by suicide). More than all the bright, happy people telling those with depression on their back to, "Just buck up and get over it!" or "Pray on it!," I am increasingly heartened by the public admissions of citizens such as Ms. Tippett and her guests, other famous, semi-famous and anonymous people who, like me, suffer from depression.

As the program so rightly points out, some people burdened by depression are very religious, very literate, and very articulate; we are no longer content to be stereotyped as lacking in devotion and will power. Bringing this issue out into the open can only lead to more help for the suffering, more life for those who would end their existence. I was fortunate to be able to catch this SOF program twice today, both by accident of having public radio tuned in. This program doubtlessly saved lives today and tonight—and will do so many times in the future. Thank you so much for your efforts and the bibliography of future resources! Thank you!

Willie Snyder
St. Paul, MN (KNOW, 91.1 FM)

Merton on Despair (November 13, 2004)
As an NPR fan, my radio was on at a time that I am not normally inside and I caught your show for the first time. I enjoyed it very much and just wish my local Catholic Church would have similar programs. As a member of an Adult Faith Enrichment team, I am always trying to find ways to improve and will refer folks to your program.

On Depression, I just wanted to share that I was very moved by Thomas Merton's discourse on what he referred to as "despair." In one reflection, he said that despair could remind us to be humble. By humble he meant that ultimately our resources will fail us and this will remind us of our dependence on God and others. Our extreme sense of independence suggests that we have all the answers. Of course I am paraphrasing but I thought it was worth mentioning. Keep up your great work.

Mark Ramnauth
New York, NY (WNYC, 820 AM)

Blending the Secular and the Spiritual (November 14, 2004)
Well, you have done it again on the program about depression—that is blending the angst of the secular and the wonderful hope of the spiritual through a concise overview around real persons' challenges and their lives.

John Lestino
Moorestown, NJ (WHYY, 91.0 FM)

Finding Insight for My Friend (November 13, 2004)
I just became aware of your program last week when I stumbled upon the discussion of complementary medicine with Dr. Mehmet Oz. It was fascinating! I spent five years working as a nurse with a wonderful cardiologist who was really into complementary medicine and its role in treating heart disease. This morning I listened to the program on depression and was so moved by your guests' attempts to describe how it feels. I've e-mailed your newsletter to a very good friend who is just emerging from pretty severe clinical depression. She continues to struggle with the peaks and valleys. I hope she finds some insights from your program.

Evelyn Jackson
St. Charles, IA (KUNI, 90.9 FM)

The Beauty in the Darkness (November 14, 2004)
Your presentation, "The Soul of Depression," was gorgeous and remarkable. You captured the essence of the experience and made it accessible as successful sculpture does. As a therapist, I am going to purchase the tape and share it with colleagues, family members, and patients. Thank you.

Another poem by Mary Oliver reflects on nature and depression. My sister sent me this in response to a poem I sent her while she was recovering from a bout with partial complex seizures.

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your
body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely
the world offers itself to your imagination
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Beth Colley
Sparks, MD (WYPR, 88.1 FM)

A Life of Depression (November 16, 2004)
As I listened to the broadcast, I couldn't help but notice that Krista and her guests, Andrew Solomon, Parker Palmer and Anita Barrows, all had a severe bouts of clinical depression as adults. I liken it to suffering a horrible, debilitating accident that struck them as adults and took them time — years — to recover. The insights touched me deeply, especially Krista's comment that "in the midst of depression, very little if anything is possible in the way of spiritual reflection." This is quite true, for me. At best, all I could hold on to was a feeling of endurance and a dim hope — a promise — that someday, somehow, I would live. Also I related strongly to Parker Palmer's comment that the suffering of depression "is simply and purely death. It's a death in life."

But there is a different type of congenital depression I did not hear addressed directly. I grew up with a mother who was clinically depressed. Institutionalized for post-partum depression, I heard later from my relatives that when she came back to her newborn, she would forget to feed me for up to ten or twenty hours. Growing up, I and my brothers fended for ourselves, since she would sleep during the day, waking up at 4 PM and working until 6 in the morning. Later, in the throes of some of the worst depressions, when I was in graduate school, I found myself naturally living with that schedule too.

This is a different degree of depression, but not in the depths of the individual days. Those of us with severe depression know those days where just getting out of bed, washing yourself and putting your clothes on is victory enough. But the degree is different in breadth, not depth. A congenital depression of this kind is less like being the victim of an accident, where a life, once normal, is changed, but like someone with a severe handicap, who has never in any real sense, been normal. This is a life of depression from the cradle. I remember myself as a seven-year-old second-grader, seeking solace in long, solitary walks through the woods outside of Halifax. But although depression has the aspects of being congenital, it is, in a sense, crueler than some handicaps, for there are times when you are almost normal. There were magical Januaries, crisp and cold, holding forth the promise of a new year — a new start. This time it will be different. But it never lasted. I got married in 1981 in my mid-twenties. My wife later on reflected that in this period early in our marriage, I was depressed about 80 percent of the time. That is at most three good months out of the year. So much for hope and promise, since there was so little time to accomplish things.

For one reason or another, it took until my 46th year when I was finally identified as a person who would benefit from medication. Instead of Andrew Solomon, where the medication "returned me to myself," I say that my life truly began five years ago. I am reminded of the story of my stepdaughter (who I first met when she was eight), who, once the pediatrician finally identified the severity of the allergies she suffered, finally at the age of five, knew what it was like to go through a day not living with her vitality crippled by her incapacities. It is like being released from prison, a prison where I lived all my life, and now instead of holding on to that enduring hope, where I could only wish that some day things would be better, I am now living that life I had hoped for. Instead of having a couple of weeks here or a month or so there where I could feel happy, my life now is mostly the way I had wished. It is not to say that with Serzone and Buspar I do not feel the sadness anymore, but it is attenuated and does not last. I can function during my melancholy, and it only lasts for weeks now, not months.

This is a different aspect of depression, one that may have only been possible in this day and age, although I heard tell that for many people, depression gets less as we age. Perhaps my depression would have naturally gone away without the medication. After all, as my psychiatrist warned me, the effect of the medication is subtle. My wife, having volunteered at a mental hospital, had been worried that the cost of treating depression would be to turn me into a medicated zombie, as she saw happen to some of the patients. But it luckily did not happen that way to me. In any case, I now know that it would not have resolved by itself in due course. Due to worries of side-effects, my psychiatrist convinced me to see how I could get along without the medication. After about six weeks for it to get out of my system, I slipped back into my old dysfunctional self again. I have been glad that this was only a moderate bout, not at all as bad as the worst of the ones that I remember, but after five years of normalcy, I have lost some of my coping skills. Knowing my day-to-day moods, Mary was able to notice the depression coming back even before I was able to, and now I am back to getting the medication up to the former level so my mood is improving. But my experience goes to show that depression has an effect that spans lifetimes, not just the day-to-day darkness of soul-sickness.

This is a different aspect that was not mentioned as much. Besides the endurance of the hour and the day, depression can crush hope. When that spark goes out, sometimes only suicide is left. But for those who have survived, we have developed a preternatural optimism. Think of Little Orphan Annie singing "Tomorrow," except she has forgotten how to grin and has only the memory that once she could. But still she has that hope, of something she has never really had. Sometimes, it?s all that sustains her. And sometimes life does have a happy ending.

Antony Van der Mude
Hackettstown, NJ (WNYC, 820 AM)

Something a Pill Won't Fix (November 19, 2004)
I took antidepressants for 23 years and my doctors prescribed one drug after another to "cure" me. Eventually the side effects of the drugs caused me to be diagnosed with ADD and Bipolar Disorder. Then my dad was in the hospital for six months and I began to see that doctors did not know everything. There is a lot that they just didn't share with their patients. This made me start to question my own doctors about the Wellbutrin, Effexor, Depakote, Buspar, and Ritalin that I was taking for my "disease." I went through seven months of drug withdrawal and used alternative healing methods to recover from depression. Depression is not a disease as we are being led to believe by the medical profession. There is a reason for depression and a pill won't fix it.

Jeffrey Wilson
Columbus, OH (WOSU, 820 AM)

A Beast Shouting (July 21, 2003)
I recently experienced an episode of depression that I think was deeply spiritual, though in the midst of it I could not have affirmed that. In the midst of it I remember thinking, as if I were dying, "I never imagined it would end like this." I felt as if I had gone over a cliff and was in a slow-motion free-fall, no longer in the world but not yet quite out of it.

Parker Palmer said that even in the depths of his depression, when all had been stripped away, he sensed something there (soul?) that still wanted life and vitality, even if he couldn't imagine, at that point, how to get it. His reflections reminded me of a line in one of my favorite poems, "Morning Poem" by Mary Oliver, in which she says:

     And if your spirit
     carries within it
     the thorn
     that is heavier than lead —
     if it's all you can do
     to keep on trudging —
     there is still
     somewhere deep within you
     a beast shouting that the earth
     is exactly what it wanted?

Ron Skidmore
Grand Rapids, MI (WVGR, 104.1 FM)

'The Dark Night of the Soul' (July 20, 2003)
I was able to get my mother to listen to this program, and I think for the first time she is beginning to understand the struggle I have with depression. This program articulated, in ways that I have never been able to, that "dark night of the soul." It also articulated what happens when you come out the other side. It is not a journey easily undertaken, but is ultimately rewarding nonetheless.

Julie A. Bayley
New York, NY (WNYC, 820 AM)

Another Point of View (July 20, 2003)
As I listened today to the psychologist talk about depression I was struck by her romanticizing of a serious illness. I've never heard poems romanticizing diabetes and yet it is similar in origin to depression — an organic imbalance. Both sides of my family have members who are clinically depressed, and I am one of them. Clinical depression is terrible and I am thankful that medical science has made it possible for me and others in my family to lead normal, productive lives with antidepressants. As I think about it, the woman speaking was suffering from a physical ailment and when it was understood she was relieved of her depression. Do we romanticize mania? Do we celebrate schizophrenia? Am I missing something?

Diane Donato
Columbus, OH (WOSU, 820 AM)

Thank You (July 20, 2003)
I have been stricken with two periods of depression: In my early 20s, just after graduating from college in 1974, and more recently on and off since 2000. The first period was due to a realization that adulthood was upon me and I had wasted my education on an endeavor with which I could not support myself. I always remember being mystified at the senselessness of my father trying to give me a pep talk, when I felt encased in a cold dreary cloud, numb. My mother, bless her, waited and watched and seemed to know when to offer a simple, positive direction, when I was ready to accept such a suggestion.

More recently my parents' troubles have been a significant trigger. Since 1997 their lives went from happy independence to complete disaster, with growing dependence on me. Watching their health fail — primarily their mental health, due to stroke and Alzheimer's — has been an ongoing struggle, both to keep them from getting too depressed and to keep myself from drowning in depression as well.

I did try treatment with medications. I had to. I could not care for my child, fearing I would get in an accident driving him after a sleepless night. But twice I seemed to pull myself out of depression due to the overwhelming needs of those dependent upon me. Even now, I find that to sit with my severely depressed parents is a downer I have trouble subjecting myself to. At some point we have to reach within ourselves and choose to join the world of the living again. But what motivates us is the mystery.

I thank you because it is a spiritual thing, a soul-stretching experience that has changed me for the better. I have found writing poetry very helpful as well, once I'm in the recovery stage. Sharing these feelings is wonderful after feeling so alone and unworthy.

Laurie Seavey Gould
Pasadena, CA (KPCC, 89.3 FM)

Depression as Spiritual Blockage (March 4, 2003)
I fervently agreed with the expert on this program who juxtaposed vitality and depression. That's it exactly. My experiences with depression in myself and those around me show me that time and time again. I've been playing with theories of spirituality lately, and have been working with the premise that our emotions are our spiritual senses, i.e. we see the physical world with our eyes, ears, etc., and we see the spiritual world with our love, our faith, our hope, our optimism and sometimes our fear. If that's the case, depression to my way of thinking is like spiritual blockage because your emotions are totally blocked. It's like being emotionally, and thus spiritually, blind.

In this program the host tried to put a nice spin on it, talking about how people who suffer with depression have a spiritual depth to them that others don't always have. I think it's more analogous to a blind person who gets their sight back and never again takes for granted the sun, the colors, the world of visual sense. I think when depression lifts, from time to time, the depressed person gets their spiritual sight back and therefore never again takes their emotions for granted. I also think, when they again receive these emotional messages from their own spirit, it is close to the elation you feel when you return to health after a long sickness, i.e. vitality.

Bob Filipczak
Minneapolis, MN (KNOW, 91.1 FM)

A Comfort (March 7, 2003)
I found this to be a very comforting program. So often you hear that depression is "easily treated" as if taking a pill is just going to make it all go away. So untrue. I have had many depressions and live with it on a daily basis, most of the time in a low level way.

It was good to hear some people who knew something talking about it in a way that made it seem not all bad. I especially liked the poem by Rilke where he says "I love the dark hours of my being." There are times I feel very comforted by darkness (though not by depression) and if nothing else, it does make you a more compassionate person because you become aware of the suffering that others may have as well. I enjoyed the interview with Parker Palmer because it's so true that most people are so inept at dealing with it, and I've heard the very same things he mentioned so many times myself.

MariKay
Everett, WA (KUOW, 94.9 FM)

There is Light (January 29, 2003)
I did experience depressions most of my life, but when I became more connected to myself and accepted myself and the Divine Principle that the human body is an embodiment of, it became so much easier to bear. The book by Victor Frankel, Man's Search for Meaning, helped me in my teenage years. It did so because my parents, like Victor Frankel, were Holocaust survivors and Victor Frankel survived because he created meaning out of the darkest hours. He observed that the people who survived the most difficult situations had something in common, some inner magnet of meaning was pulling them and calling them to continue and say "Yes yes yes" to life in spite of the difficulties.

Now, after years I suffering and inner emotional tidal waves (I actually never took medicine) I found that all of this was worthwhile. It brought me to the place that I am now, and it is a sacred place. Being a college teacher (for 21 years) it puts me in a position that I understand what young people feel and go through and am able to connect with them because my heart is open. And it is open because years of suffering softened and seasoned it. So from my own experience I know that there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Dani Novak
Ithaca, NY

This Is So True (February 11, 2003)
I was very much impressed by the three guest speakers, especially the poetry of Anita Barrows. How I would have liked to have heard such uplifting thoughts when I myself was experiencing the depths of darkness while I was a missionary in the Philippines, as well as a few other times in my life when I was wracked by the inexplicable denseness of the darkness. It is only faith and trust in God, in Whom I had put all my trust that pulled me through: the praying of the Psalms and just being silent in God's Absent-Presence, and the writing of my own poetry as a cry from the depths.

At the time of my ordeals, it seems that I found no one who could understand the depths of pain, sorrow, and aloneness that I was living through. I was just thrown back into a classroom, trying with the last fiber of my living soul to survive and swim to the shore, or to be carried in the arms of God to a place of safety and quiet where I would truly feel accepted and loved for who I am.

Today, as I am often brought to just listen to the depth of pain of another human being, I am able to just be and listen and love the other as my own self. Thank you for this program. I would like to be able to forward it to so many persons whom I know, to give them a drop of life-giving water of hope in the resiliency of the soul.

Sister Helen E. Provost
Thorndike, ME

Wonderfully Captured! (February 12, 2003)
Parker Palmer's writing about depression in Weavings a few years ago, where he shared the story about the neighbor who tended to his feet in silent but healing presence offered transformative space to myself and my spiritual companion when I was in the midst of my own depression and was "in the fire" as Anita Barrows called it. Healing not only for myself but for the relationship and the power practicing presence has to bring it forth, has informed my life to an overwhelming degree.

I now am a holistic nurse practitioner engaged in nursing theories where authentic caring is the foundation for the work I do in wellness education. Thus, my depression "accompanies me" in this meaningful walk through life — ever mindful that the fire is the fire, and helping to quell the flame in the other requires the unique art of practicing presence. It was great for me to tune into the show, and be awesomely surprised to hear Parker! I have read many of his works, but never heard him speak. Thanks for this soul-full blessing!

Rebecca Bell
Hermon, ME

No Easy Way Out (February 16, 2003)
I think the program was very insightful and thoughtful in its presentation. The descriptions of places of darkness were accurate. I am grateful for the discussion's lack of medical sway. I found it difficult to listen to because it transported me back to some very broken, painful times. I could either listen with a painful heart and gain more insight or I could stop and resume my schedule. I listened and realized again that there is no easy way out I need to go though some of those memories again of the depth and breadth of the darkness to continue to understand it.

Although I didn't have any drug therapy, I am certain I would have if I had told anyone how I was feeling or what I was thinking. I often described it as sitting in my grave, waiting for the dirt to be thrown over me. The only reason I started to climb out was my children and how I wanted them to remember me. I also decided from way down deep inside that I wanted to live before I died and I hadn't done that yet. God stayed with me the whole time. I never felt abandoned by God but was concerned that my faith would turn out to be an empty shell and all that I relied on would be a big bunch of nothing! I am grateful that wasn't the case.

So many people helped me in my journey and don't ever discount even a small act of kindness you do. A chaplain at the hospital asked me if she could carry my coat on our way to her office. That was amazing to me that this woman thought I was worthy of having her carry my coat. I still am touched by this act of love. Thank you for this gentle discussion and reminder to be ever observant.

Barbara Spleiss
Minneapolis, MN (KNOW, 91.1 FM)