We welcome your reflections on the topics of this program.
Please share your thoughts.

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 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, Mich.

'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.

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, Ohio

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, Calif.

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

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

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.

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 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 Chaplin 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