Catharsis:
A Baptism of Repentance for the Forgiveness of Sins

If you repent, I will restore you.
- Jeremiah 15 : 19


If the conscious and unconscious are separated, alienated, or disassociated from one another to some degree in most people, why is this? What originally caused that separation? And more importantly, what is continuing it today? What, if anything, is actually there right now at this moment between the heart and the head, between the unconscious and the conscious, that is preventing or sabotaging their current attempts at interaction and inter-communication? And of course, the most important question - if there is anything there, how do we overcome it?

The ancient Hebrew prophet Isaiah wrote that a great wall had been created out of humanity's "sin" in the spiritual world (Isaiah 30 : 9-14). And Freud, of course, is on record as saying that the only thing separating the conscious from the unconscious is "resistence itself". And while I think that these explanations of the wall are correct, as far as they go, they still leave us with a lot of questions about just what this wall is and what can be done about it.

But there is a another way to define and explain this inner wall, a modern approach that helps to expose its hidden presence within each of us. The modern psychologist Stephen Levine speaks of this wall in far different than Freud or Isaiah, terms far easier for the modern mind to identify with and accept. Instead of describing the wall as being made of "resistance" or even "sin", Levine uses the word "grief", and his approach helps us to see that both Isaiah and Freud were referring to the same thing, the same dynamic. Levine wrote:

Along the path of healing that leads into the heart,
one is called upon to examine grief. Grief is the
binding alloy of the armoring of the heart. As if
touched by fire, the mind recoils at losing what
it holds most dear. As the mind contracts about
its grief, the spaciousness of the heart often seems
very distant.
- Stephen Levine

These words instantly paint a picture of internal psychological division, suggesting that one's inner grief can make one's own heart seem very distant from one's conscious awareness. Levine reports that this inner division often exists inside a person without ever being noticed. While acknowledging that some people would object to this assessment, Levine explains that this is just another aspect of our rigid denial and self-protection. Many would surely say "I haven't ever lost anyone - why should I be grieving?" Unfortunately, Levine says, it's just not that simple, and many others, including Ken Wilber, father of the modern field of Transpersonal Psychology, would agree :

My unconscious is the lie,
the inner place that I hide from myself.
- Ken Wilber

Despite its public image, grief is not always a colossally obvious sadness; most of the time it is much more subtle than that, far more insidious and easy to overlook. Everyone has grief. Grief is an inescapable part of being alive; everyone living has some painful imbalance in their "tally sheet" with life. As we go through our years, most manage to accumulate a tremendous amount of "unfinished business"in our past, including all our disappointments in our lives, in ourselves, in our unfulfilled hopes and dreams and potentials, in our unrequited loves, in all the uncorrected injustices that life feeds us on a daily if not hourly basis. Our awareness that "all this business still remains unfinished" manifests in our minds as a quiet background grief, a fatiguing self-consciousness, which Levine poetically calls " the predominant theme of the unfinished symphony of the mind's yearning".

Life is suffering.
- First Noble Truth of Buddhism

Like the ever-present low-level radiation that astronomy calls "the background noise of the universe", our forgotten or ignored yet still active grief over these disappointments shows up everywhere, as self-judgment, fear, and guilt, as anger and blame (think "road rage"), as a harsh mercilessness with ourselves and others, even as a hesitation to let the rest of the world in close enough to ever touch us again. Our unacknowledged grief shows itself in, and as, our fear of loss, our fear of rejection, our fear of death, our fear of everything new, our ever-present fear of each new unknown corner in life. Our tendency to hold and cling to things, as well as our tendency to judge and condemn ourselves and others, is, Levine asserts, the day-to-day voice of this hidden grief, screaming out from inside us about our inner sense of "not-enoughness" which "desperately longs to become otherwise". "Grief", Levine says, "is the rope burn left behind when what we have held to most dear is pulled out of reach, beyond our grasp".

Over time, all this holding and clinging, condemning and judging, hardens around our grief like barnacles on a ship. When we hold on to our grief, anger, and guilt, they don't simply go away on their own, although they do seem to. When we don't express them, when we don't allow ourselves to fully experience our own grief, sadness, and disappointments in life, they are prevented from falling away naturally, and are instead preserved intact, "going into cold storage" inside our own minds where they can exert an invisible but potent effect on our lives, behaviors, and attitudes. When we avoid confronting and addressing these feelings directly, we prevent their emotional energy from being "discharged"; to deny their existence is merely to hold them back, preventing ourselves from releasing them and letting them go. Like cars in gridlock, these emotions won't just dissipate on their own; they don't have anywhere else they can go. They have a single destination - our consciousness, and will not turn off that road until they arrive, no matter how long it takes. So like cars in a traffic jam, they just wait, piling up, building an obstruction. And their emotional energy piles up too. Prevented from dissipating naturally, these unacknowledged feelings are forced to accumulate silently and invisibly within us, becoming ever more solid and formidable, growing dense roots deep into our psyches, burrowing their toxic tentacles into our attitudes and behaviors.

Because of your stubbornness
and your unrepentant heart,
you are storing up wrath against yourself.
- Romans 2:5

This grief, in effect, builds a wall within us that cuts us off from authentic experience of our own emotions and emotional reactions, and behind that wall, all our past emotions and emotional reactions that we never allowed ourselves to fully release and experience still remain, still waiting to be released so we can finally consciously experience them. And of course, this inner heaviness, this thick accumulation of unexpressed pain, unexamined grief, and unspoken heartache, this looming unpaid debt we owe to ourselves, has become the epitome of all we fear most, causing us to resist it all the more, causing a self-repetitive cycle of avoidance begetting avoidance :

Here is the basic pattern: First, we avoid what we need to look at
because we do not want to feel pain. Then our avoidance produces further
problems for us, which we also do not want to look at because they evoke
pain. Then the new avoidance produces additional problems we do not care
to examine - and so on. Layer of avoidance is piled on layer of
avoidance, disowned pain on disowned pain. This is the condition of most
adults.
- Nathaniel Branden

By the time we are adults, we have gone through years of grief in life, often never letting ourselves fully experience, express, and thereby release this grief, never realizing that this avoidance just allows that grief to accumulate into something far worse - a sort of sediment that hardens around our hearts, eventually becoming compressed as hard as a rock. Like clogged veins, this psychological sediment severely restricts the healthy exchange of communication between the head and heart, between the conscious and unconscious. All this baggage, all these thick layers of disowned, unexpressed, examined feelings of guilt, grief, and disappointment that we carry around inside us every moment of every day - this lifetime of armoring that builds up around our hearts - cannot help but exhaust us, draining our energy, draining our available resources that we're supposed to be using for coping with the "here and now". There is eventually so much of our "essential being" trapped inside this wall, committed to resolving all these previous moments in time, all these pieces of ourselves still trying to cope with all these different past pains and sorrows and grievances, that we find that there's precious little of our own resources left available to cope with what's going on NOW. And with our resources limited so, our potential for forward growth and healthy evolution is quite effectively stymied (which would explain why people keep getting caught in the same destructive behavior patterns lifetime after lifetime, according to PLR research). We can't go forward when so much of our being is still frozen in backward glances :

If the self represses or disassociates aspects
of itself, it will have less potential for further
evolution and development. And sooner or
later, this will drag development to a halt.
- Ken Wilber

The self can fail in the integration ... [and]
alienates and disassociates ... and represses.
Once this accident occurs ... this pathology
forms a lesion in consciousness that tends
to infect and distort all subsequent development.
There are now aspects of the self's being that
it doesn't own or admit or acknowledge. It
starts to hide from itself. In other words, the
self begins lying to itself. And thus the personal
unconscious begins its career. And this
unconscious is, in part, the locus of the self's lie.
...aspects of awareness are split off -
"little blobs", little selves, little subjects,
are forced into the subterranean dark.
- Ken Wilber

All these "little selves", each one stuck in its own frozen moment of past grief, do not remain fully silent, however. They do find a "voice" they can speak through. By the grace of God, they find a way that they can make their presence known to us - in and as our urge to judge and condemn ourselves and others. But all this voice is really doing is calling out, as loudly as it can in the only way it has available to speak, for healing and forgiveness.

When we finally grasp that this is really the message being delivered, we begin to understand that our grief and suffering is really just another of the many threads woven through the human experience - not punishment for some unpardonable sin. And with this, we realize that the Buddha was not entirely correct - that although life does include suffering as one of its most noticeable components, life is far more than just suffering itself. And with this recognition, we can finally begin the process of letting go of all the judgment that has hardened over the years around our grief.

And the first step in letting go of all this pain, grief, and judgment is to acknowledge its existence and try to see it for what it is. When we finally summon the courage to approach our grief, we discover it has accumulated into a firm, dense wall, an unanticipated and unexplored barrier between the heart and the mind. We start to comprehend that this wall never really completely prevented communication between the conscious and unconscious, it was just that, like a guard to a castle, this wall insisted that IT be dealt with first. Like Glenn Close's character in "Fatal Attraction", the wall, built out of the unexperienced moments of our own past lives, was there with its hands on its hips, saying "I won't be IGNORED".

When we finally give up trying to do the impossible, when we finally stop vainly trying to ignore this wall, when we gird ourselves with faith and courage, and bravely resolve to walk up close and look directly into the blackness of our grief and see it for what it is, we begin to realize for the first time how very often we have distrusted what we feel in life, discovering all the convoluted patterns of our grief and unfinished business. All the loss, all the injuries, all the disappointments of a lifetime (of many lifetimes?) lay there, encrusted in that wall of barnacled grief, holding us back from our own lives, locking us out of our own hearts.

Standing finally right at the base of the wall, we look up at its imposing heights, and begin to understand that our unspoken, unacknowledged, unreleased grief is immense. We start to grasp that we've been spending most of our waking lives desperately trying to elude the pain of our daily grief, our daily fears, our daily anger, our daily sense of isolation, all the grief of a lifetime. Peering deeply into this wall, we see that every iota of our disowned grief is still there, piled up, each little bit still waiting in its original condition to be released, each bitter morsel of sorrow and grief still unchanged from the moment of its origination.

Remarkably, this painful exploration of our grief opens the path to heavenly joy. By illuminating the darkness of these innumerable moments of helplessness and hopelessness, fully immersing ourselves in them so that they can finally be completely experienced, released and discarded, the armor around our hearts begins to melt and the barnacles begin to drop off, and we become healed.

John the Baptist came preaching
in the Desert of Judea and saying,
"Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near."
John preached a baptism of repentance
for the forgiveness of sins.
- Matthew 3: 1-2, Mark 1:4

Levine urges us to release this unexpressed grief, to fully breath in all our unshed tears, all our unlaughed laughs, all the moments in our lives that we never really allowed ourselves to fully experience. We must, he insists, make room in our hearts for our own repressed inner pain. Levine says that a tremendous energy is released when your grief is freed to flow at last (which reminds me of the energies apparently released at Christ's resurrection as observable in the Shroud of Turin).

He implores us to let this stored-up pain release itself into our awareness. Nothing could be easier; all we have to do is stop holding it back. If it breaks our hearts, he advises, so be it. Let them break. As difficult as it may seem, we must let go, we must stop all our holding on, all the holding back we've been constantly engaged in. The true agony, we thus discover, was simply in being separated from our own pain. Paradoxically, we find that being reunited with that pain is the one path that will allow us to finally travel beyond it. Acknowledging and experiencing the "truth" of the presence of that pain is the only thing that will "set us free" from it.

Godly sorrow brings repentance
that leads to salvation and leaves no regret.
- 2 Corinthians 7:10

What we can feel we can heal. Our challenge, it seems, is simple - we need only to breathe all this pain in, breathing in all the years of grief we hid from ourselves, all the sorrows we told ourselves weren't there. We need to finally get past all our empty posturing and all our fear and shame and secret fears, and all those unrequited loves we never spoke of to anyone. The only way to break down this wall is to confront it head-on; the only way to get past the pain is to dive boldly through the middle of it. And going through it, we find ourselves past it, in the merciful and comforting expanse of the heart, the only place that has room for all this pain. (The mind can't handle it, and shrinks from it; this is what caused the wall to arise in the first place.) But in the heart - just beyond the barnacles of armor, just beyond our fear of all this pain - lies the very thing that will heal us. By trusting in our own hearts and breathing in our pain, experiencing it fully and immediately, we can finally feel all that were supposed to feel, all that we meant ourselves to feel, finally experiencing it and releasing it at last, releasing it into the enormity of the heart.

In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength.
- Isaiah 30:15

Spirituality, we find, requires profound courage. It takes tremendous trust, tremendous faith, to confront this grief on its own terms. But with courage, we can do this. We can let our hearts open wide enough to embrace all this disowned pain. With faith, we can drag these terrifying shadows into the light of our full conscious awareness, the light they so desperately long for, the light they were always meant to live in, so that our armor disintegrates, and there is no longer anything separating our head and heart. This pain, which we have always avoided, is paradoxically the very thing that will end our suffering. We can let all this fear, all this loneliness and guilt and sense of loss and all our illusions of failure, we can set all this free inside us, allowing it finally to enter into our awareness, into our hearts. With courage and faith, we can make room in our hearts even for this, letting all of it into the universe that is the human heart. In our hearts, we have room even for this pain. And once there, it will heal us. "Those who know their pain and their grief most intimately," Levine declares, "often seem to be the lightest, the most care-free, the most healed of the people we meet".

What we never let ourselves feel, will never heal. That is why the wall is sure to fall in each of us sooner or later:

These are rebellious people, deceitful children,
children unwilling to listen to the LORD's instruction.
Therefore, this is what the Holy One of Israel says:
"Because you have rejected this message,
relied on oppression and depended on deceit,
this sin will become for you like a high wall,
cracked and bulging,
that collapses suddenly, in an instant.
- Isaiah 30 : 9-14

The wall, the above passage reads, was built out of sin. But why would it be a "sin" to deny and repress one's own feelings? I suggest that the "Lord's instruction" that "was rejected" in the above passage was the voice of one's own inner soul. By ignoring, denying, and rejecting this voice of the soul, the wall arose. The voice of the soul, the voice of the unconscious, all the feelings and emotions and insights that it sends to be released into our conscious awareness, are, Isaiah suggests, messages from the Divine, and when we repress or reject them, we reject the Voice of God that was always meant to be heard within our minds.

Remember, therefore,
what you have received and heard;
obey it, and repent.
- Revelation 3:3

One question remains: once we have confronted our inner demons and have been immersed, or baptized, in our own disowned pain, and once we have washed ourselves clean of all that accumulated sediment, what is there to keep it from building up all over again?

This question answers itself. We must regularly perform inner "housekeeping" chores, spiritual maintenance, regularly examining our own hearts, to see if we have allowed any new experiences or feelings to be disowned, unacknowledged, or repressed. But this is an easy task, and not nearly as difficult or challenging as confronting the whole wall. Once the sediment of the great wall has been washed away, we merely need to perform brief and relatively effortless soul-cleansings after that:

A person who has had a bath
needs only to wash his feet;
his whole body is clean.
- John 13:10

Once the wall is down, "the system that is the human mind" functions better. More efficiently. We no longer shrink from our own lives and our own selves, and are once again comfortable letting ourselves openly experience "life as it is", including all our natural feelings and emotions. And when we do, we discover that every experience that comes, every feeling, every emotion, every reaction, everything, when they are fully acknowledged, honored, experienced, and then let go, we find, to our astonishment, they all pass away naturally of their own accord, leaving us quite as we were before. This is how the mind is supposed to function, and how it does function when the dividing wall has been removed.

This is DivisionTheory. DT simply asks how this would manifest in the afterlife, and concludes that "as a man thinketh, so he is".

If this wall is not "knocked down" inside us while we are alive, if we die while still in a state of self-alienation from our own authentic feelings, this inner division will not instantly and miraculously be healed just because we exit the body. This state of inner division will remain our own condition.

"I take no pleasure in the death of anyone,"
declares the Sovereign LORD. "Repent and live!" >BR> Unless you repent, you too will all perish.
- Ezekiel 18:32, Luke 13:3

"As a man thinketh, so he is", the ancients insisted. Exactly as you conduct your life, so also will your death be. If you are full of illusion in life, your death will be full of illusion. If you have enlightenment in life, you will have enlightenment in death. And if you have lived your life in a state of self-alienated inner division, this also will be your state in death.

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