Chapter Four of BirthQuake

"The real crisis of midlife, then, seems to be a crisis of identity and meaning, and creativity resolves this crises." - Joannne F. Vickers and Barbara L. Thomas

Early adulthood is typically a frenetically busy time when much of our energy is geared towards exploring intimate relationships, acquiring essentials, obtaining degrees and training, establishing ourselves in careers, and for many of us - caring for growing children. There's relatively little time or energy for most of us to engage in the deep introspection of our adolescence. It's often not until middle adulthood that we find ourselves returning to such questions as, "What's the meaning of my life?" "What do I really want?" These questions can trigger a variety of responses and feelings, from disappointment and anxiety, to excitement and anticipation. For some, this period of uncertainty can lead to a sad and disconcerting twilight time. For others - the questions can herald in a period of possibility and exploration, particularly in spiritual matters.

I was sitting in the dentist's office last winter, fumbling through magazines and anxiously anticipating the drill, when I came across an article that addressed the seemingly growing wave of fascination the general public is exhibiting for matters of the Spirit. The magazine cited the emergence of popular television shows, best selling books, and music with a spiritual focus. I thought about my husband's recent habit of reading the Bible at night before going to sleep (this is a man who has no interest in going to church and little more in reading), of our couples groups' heated and energetic discussion of the best seller, "The Celistine Prophesy", of my client's comment that morning about her favorite television program, "Touched by an Angel"; and my entry into my waiting room that afternoon to glimpse some woman on television sitting with Oprah Winphry discussing her bestseller, "Embraced by the Light." My client sat leaning forward, eyes focused intently on the little black and white screen, reluctant to pull herself away and enter my office. It seemed as though such otherworldly matters were being addressed all around me!

IN SEARCH OF THE SACRED

"Any journalist worth his or her salt knows the real story today is to define what it means to be spiritual. This is the biggest story - not only of the decade but of the century." This quote by Bill Moyers begins Sam Keen's informative ant thought provoking book, "Hymns to an Unknown God." Keen, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School, shares his lifelong journey and struggle to create for himself a sustainable sense of spirituality and personal meaning. On his pilgrimage he covers a tremendous amount of ground from secular religion to the sacredness available during the simplest of moments in every day life. Keen's observations and experiences resonated with me, calling forth a number of memories and increasing the volume of my own generally silenced longings.

I grew up in the shadow of two very powerful men. One, my great- grandfather on my mother's side, a strict Baptist; and the other, my paternal grandfather, a devout Jehovah Witness. I feared for my soul from a very young age, torn between two dramatically different theologies. If I followed the path of one and the other turned out to be correct, I could find myself burning in the fires of hell. If, on the other hand, I chose the other faith and missed the mark, I could die a terrible death in Armageddon. In search first for the true religion, and then later having given up and turning my energies in the direction of career and family, along the way I lost or never found my own spirituality.

For years I functioned well without attending to matters of the spirit. The emptiness within was seldom apparent. It generally troubled me only when, as a therapist, I was confronted with a client's existential crisis or a terrible tragedy. One such tragedy was the death of a woman's beloved son, a crisis which called for answers to questions that I had long ago stopped asking, let alone formulate answers to. I reassured myself by assuming the position that matters of the spirit had no particular place in the realm of the psychotherapist. And yet, in retrospect, it was within this realm that these issues were brought home to me. I began to witness miracles from time to time. At first I was shaken, although the child in me rejoiced that I could once again believe in magic. The adult, however, soon turned her attention elsewhere, dismissing the particular event, as my thoughts were once again directed towards more practical matters. Still, from time to time, the growing number of experiences would whisper their significance to me.

"What is now proved was once only imagined" - William Blake

One of the first such experiences involves an extraordinary woman who I will call Sue. Sue was referred to me after her beautiful daughter was killed in a fire. Sue had spent most of her adult life as a single parent, devoting her time and energy to caring for her two daughters. When her youngest child died, she was thrust understandably into the all-consuming vortex of grief. I met with her on Mondays. Each Monday for weeks, and then months, I would witness the depths of her pain and despair. I had no words that could truly offer comfort or explanations to assist her in creating some sort of meaning for her misery, in hopes of providing sustenance. Instead, I offered her caring, concern, consistency, and Prozac.

I began to develop headaches on Mondays. I eventually recognized that my headaches were related to my dread and feelings of inadequacy in dealing with Sue's pain. One day while driving in the car, I heard a song about the death of a young lover who was reaching out from the grave to offer comfort to the girl he left behind. I began to weep as I recognized that I, too, had begun to grieve for this golden-haired girl whom I had never met. In Sue's rage and agony, I began catching glimpses of my own.